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Beside the king on a white palfrey, rode the Gothic princess, while 
at his side walked the astrologer. Page 86. The Alhambra 



THE ALHAMBRA 



TALES AND SKETCHES OF THE MOORS 
AND SPANIARDS 

By WASHINGTON IRVING 

ii 
Author of -THE SKETCH BOOK." -KNICKERBOCKER'S 
HISTORY OF NEW YORK," -THE CONQUEST OF 
GRANADA," -TALES OF A TRAVELLER." etx:., etc. 




A. L. BURT COMPANY, J^ J^ * J^ J^ 
* ^ ^ J' PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK 



MOUNT PLEASANT BRANCH 



TRANSFER 
S. O. PUBLIC LIBlUJiY 



!4 



^ 55S019 

DEDICATION. ^^' 



TO DAVID WILKIB, ESQ., R. A. 

My Dear Sir: You may remember that, in the 
course of the rambles we once took together about some 
of the old cities of Spain, particularly Toledo and Se- 
ville, we frequently remarked the mixture of the Sara- 
cenic with the Gothic, remaining from the time of the 
Moors, and were more than once struck with incidents 
and scenes in the streets, that brought to mind passages 
in the ^^Arabian Nights/^ You then urged me to write 
something illustrative of these peculiarities — * 'some- 
thing in the Haroun Alraschid style,^' that should have 
a dash of that Ara^iian spice which pervades everything 
in Spain. I call this to mind to show you that you are, 
in some degree, respon&ible for the present work; in 
which I have given a few ''Arabesque'^ sketches and 
tales, taken from the life, or founded on local traditions, 
aud mostly struck off during a residence in one of the 
most legendary and Morisco-Spanish places of the 
j^eninsula. 

I inscribe this work to you, as a memorial of the pleas-- 
ant scenes we have witnessed together, in that land of 
adventure, and as a testimony of an esteem for your 
worth, which can only be exceeded by admiration of your 
talents. 

Your friend and fellow traveler^ 

TU^ AUTHOE. 



CONTENTS. 



PA6B 

The Journey •••.... 1 

Government of the Alhambra • . 15 

Interior of the Alhambra 18 

The Tower of Comares.' 24 

Reflections on the Moslem Domination in Spain r 28 

The Household ., 31 

The Truant 35 

The Author's Chamber 38 

The Alhambra by Moonlight .^ 42 

Inhabitants of the Alhambra , • • 44 

The Balcony 47 

The Adventure of the Mason 52 

A Ramble Among the Hills. • . * 55 

The Court of Lions • 62 

Boabdil el Chico. 67 

Mementos of Boabdil 70 

The Tower of Las Infantas. 73 

The House of the Weathercock 74 

Legend of the Arabian Astrologer 75 

Legend of the Three Beautiful Princesses 90 

Local Traditions 110 

Legend of the Moor's Legacy 112 

Visitors of the Alhambra 130 

Legend of Prince Ahmed Al Kamel; or, the Pilgrim of Love. . 135 
Legend of the Rose of the Alhambra; or, the Page and the Ger- 
falcon 162 

The Veteran < ... 176 

The Governor and the Notary 178 

Governor Manco and the Soldier 183 

Legend of the Two Discreet Statues 198 

Mahamad Aben Alahmar, the Founder of the Alhambra 214 

Jusef Abul Hagias, the Finisher of the Alhambra 220 



•jl CONTENTB, 

LEGENDS OP THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 



LEGEND OF DON RODERICK. 

CHAPTER PA6E 

I. Of the Ancient Inhabitants of Spain— Of the Misrule of 

Witiza the Wicked ^)25 

ZI. The Rise of Don Roderick—His Government $129 

III. Of the Loves of Roderick and the Princess Elyata. $i32 

rV. Of Count Julian J J36 

V. The Story of Florinda Ji38 

VI. Don Roderick Receives an Extraordinary Embassy /J43 

VII. Story of the Marvelous and Portentous Tower fi46 

VIII. Count Julian — His Fortunes in Africa — He Hears of 

the Dishonor of his Child — His Conduct thereupon. . . 252 
IX. Secret Visit of Count Julian to the Arab Camp — First 

Expedition of Taric el Tuerto 257 

X. Letter of Muza to the Caliph — Second Expedition of 

Taric el Tuerto 260 

XL Measures of Don Roderick on Hearing of the Invasion 

— Expedition of Ataulpho — Vision of Taric 264 

XII. Battle of Calpe— Fate of Ataulpho 267 

XIII. Terror of the Country — Roderick Rouses Himself to 

Arms 27^ 

XrV. March of the Gothic Army — Encampment on the Banks 
of the Guadalete — Mysterious Predictions of a Palmer 

— Conduct of Pelistes thereupon 275 

XV. Skirmishing of the Armies — Pelistes and his Son— 

Pelistes and the Bishop 279 

XVI. Traitorous Message of Count Julian. 282 

XVII. Last Day of the Battle 384 

XVIII. The Field of the Battle after the Defeat— Fate of 

Roderick 288 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE FOREGOING LEGEND. 

The Tomb of Roderick 291 

The Cave of Hercules. 293 



THE ALHAMBRA. 



k SERIES OF TALES AND SKETCHES 
OF THE MOORS AND SPANIARDS. 



THE JOURNEY. 

In the spring of 1829 the author of this work, whom 
curiosity had brought into Spain, made a rambling ex- 
pedition from Seville to Granada, in company with a 
friend, a member of the Russian embassy at Madrid. 
Accident had thrown us together from distant regions of 
the globe, and a similarity of taste led us to wander to- 
gether among the romantic mountains of Andalusia. 
Should these pages meet his eye, wherever thrown by the 
duties of his station, whether mingling in the pageantry 
of courts or meditating on the truer glories of nature^ 
may they recall the scenes of our adventurous compan- 
ionship, and with them the remembrance of one in 
whom neither time nor distance will obliterate the recol- 
lection of his gentleness and worth. 

And here, before setting forth, let me indulge in a few 
previous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travel- 
ing. Many are apt to picture Spain in their imagina« 
tions as a soft southern region decked out with all the 
luxuriant charms of voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, 
though there are exceptions in some of the maritirne 
provinces, yet, for the greater part, it is a stern, melan- 
choly country, with rugged mountains and long, naked, 
sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and invariably silent 
and lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary char- 
acter of Africa. What adds to this silence and loneli- 
ness, is the absence of singing birds, a natural conse- 



I THE ALHAMB^A. 

quence of the want of groves and hedges. The vulture 
and the eagle are seen wneeling about the mountain cliffs 
and soaring over the peaks, and groups of shv bustards 
stalk about the heaths, but the myriads of smaller birds, 
which animate the whole face of other countries, are met 
with in but few provinces of Spain, and in them chiefly 
among the orchards and gardens which surround the 
habitations of man. 

In the exterior provinces the traveler occasionally 
traverses great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the 
eye can reach, waving at times with verdure, at other 
times naked and sunburnt; but he looks round in vain for 
the hand that has tilled the soil: at length he perceives 
some village perched on a steep hill or rugged crag, 
with moldering battlements and ruined watch-tower; a 
stronghold, in old times, against civil war or Moorish 
inroad; for the custom among the peasantry of congre- 
gating together for mutual protection is still kept up in 
most parts of Spain, in consequence of the marauding of 
roving freebooters. 

But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the 
garniture of groves and forests and the softer charms of 
ornamental cultivation, yet its scenery has something of 
a high and lofty character to compensate the want. It 
partakes something of the attributes of its people, and I 
think that I better understand the proud, hardy, frugal, 
and abstemious Spaniard, his manly defiance of hard- 
ships and contempt of effeminate indulgences, since I 
have seen the country he inhabits. 

There is something, too, in the sternly simple features 
of the Spanish landscape that impresses on the soul a 
feeling of sublimity. The immense plains of the Castiles 
and La Mancha, extending as far as the eye can reach, 
derive an interest from their very nakedness and immens- 
ity, and have something of the solemn grandeur of the 
ocean. In ranging over these boundless wastes the eye 
catches sight, here and there, of a straggling herd of cat- 
tle attended by a lonely herdsman, motionless as a statue, 
with his long slender pike tapering up like a lance into 
the air; or beholds a long train of mules slowly moving 
along the waste like a train of camels in the desert, or a 
single herdsman, ar-med with blunderbuss and stiletto, 
and prowling over li^e plain. Thus, the country, the 



ji 



TE'E JOUBKEY. 3 

habits, the very looks of the people have something of 
the Arabian character. The general insecurity of the 
country is evinced in the universal use of weapons. The 
herdsman in the field, the shepherd in the plain has his 
musket and his knife. The wealthy villager rarely 
ventures to the market-town without his trabucho, and, 
perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on his 
shoulder; and the most petty journey is undertaken with 
the preparations of a warlike enterprise. 

The dangers of the road produce, also, a mode of 
traveling, resembling on a diminutive scale the caravans 
of the East. The arrierors, or carriers, congregate in 
troops, and set off in large and well-armed trains on ap- 
pointed days, while individual travelers swell their num- 
ber and contribute to their strength. In this primitive 
way is the commerce of the country carried on. The 
muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the legit- 
imate wanderer of the land, traversing the peninsula 
from the Pyrenees and the Asturias to the Alpuxarras, 
rhe Serrania de Eonda, and even to the gates of Gibralter. 
He lives frugally and hardily; his alforjas (or saddle- 
bags), of coarse cloth, hold his scanty stock of provi- 
sions; a leathern bottle hanging at his saddle-bow con- 
tains wine or water for a supply across barren mountains 
and thirsty plains; a mule cloth spread upon the ground 
is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle is his pillow. 
His low but clear-limbed and sinewy form betokens 
strength; his complexion is dark and sunburnt; his eye 
resolute but quiet in its expression, except when kindled 
by sudden emotion; his demeanor is frank, manly, and 
courteous, and he never passes you without a grave salu- 
tation — '^Dios guarda d usted!'' ^^Vay usted con Dios, 
caballero!'^ '^God guard you!^^ '^God be with youl 
cavalier!'' I 

As these men have often their whole fortune at stake 
upon the burden of their mules, they have their weapons 
at hand, slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched 
down for desperate defense. But their united numbers 
render them secure against petty bands of marauders, 
and the solitary bandalero, armed to the teeth and 
mounted on his Andalusian steed, hovers about them, 
like a pirate about a merchant convoy, without daring to 
make au assault^ 



4 THE ALEAMBRA. 

The Spanish muleteer has an inexhanstible stock of 
songs and ballads, with which to beguile his incessant 
wayfaring. The airs are rude and simple, consisting of 
but few inflections. These he chants forth with a loud 
voice, and long drawling cadence, seated sideways on his 
mule, who seems to listen with infinite gravity, and to 
keep time with his paces, to the tune. The couplets 
thus chanted are often old traditional romances about 
the Moors; or some legend of a saint; or some love ditty; 
or, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold 
contrabandista, or hardy bandalero; for the smuggler 
and the robber are poetical heroes among the common 
people of Spain. Often the song of the muleteer is com- 
posed at the instant, and relates to some local scene oi 
some incident of the journey. This talent of singing 
and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is said to have 
been inherited from the Moors. There is something 
wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the 
rude and lonely scenes they illustrate, accompanied as 
they are by the occasional jingle of the mule-bell. 

It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train 
of muleteers in some mountain pass. First you hear the 
bells of the leading mules, breaking with their simple 
melody the stillness of the airy height; or, perhaps, the 
voice of the muleteer admonishing some tardy or wander- 
ing animal, or chanting, at the full stretch of his lungs, 
some traditionary ballad. At length you see the mules 
slowly winding along the cragged defile, sometimes de- 
scending precipitous cliffs, so as to present themselves 
in full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up the 
deep arid chasms beloAV you. As they approach you 
descry their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, and 
saddle-cloths; while, as they pass by, the ever ready 
trabucho, slung behind their packs and saddles, gives a 
hint of the insecurity of the road. 

The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we are 
about to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous 
regions of Spain. Vast sierras or chains of mountains, 
destitute of shrub or tree, and mottled with variegated 
marbles and granites, elevate their sunburnt summits 
against a deep blue sky, yet in their rugged bosoms lie 
ingulfed the most verdant and fertile valley, where the 
desert and the garden strive for mastery, and the very 



THE JOURNEY. 5 

rock^ as it were, compelled to yield the fig, the orange, 
.and the citron, and to blossom with the myrtle and the 
rose. 

In^the wild passes of these mountains the sight of 
walled towns and villages built like eagles^ nests among 
the cliffs, and surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of 
ruined watch-towers perched on lofty peaks, carry the 
mind back to the chivalrous days of Christian and 
Moslem warfare, and to the romantic struggle for the 
conquest of Granada. In traversing their lofty Sierras, 
the traveler is often obliged to alight and lead his horse 
up and down the steep and jagged ascents and descents, 
resembling the broken steps of a staircase. Sometimes 
the road winds along dizzy precipices, without parapet to 
guard him from the gulfs below, and then will plunge 
down steep and dark and dangerous declivities. Some- 
times it struggles through rugged barrancos, or ravines, 
worn by water torrents, the obscure paths of the contra- 
bandista; while ever and anon the ominous cross, the 
memento of robbery and murder, erected on a mound of 
stones at some lonely part of the road, admonishes the 
traveler that he is among the haunts of banditti; per- 
haps, at that very moment, under the eye of some lurk- 
ing bandalero. Sometimes, in winding through the nar- 
row valleys, he is startled by a hoarse bellowing, and 
beholds above him, on some green fold of the mountain 
side, a herd of fierce Andalusian bulls, destined for the 
combat of the arena. There is something awful in the 
contemplation of these terrific animals, clothed with 
tremendous strength, and ranging their native pastures 
in untamed wildness: strangers almost to the face of 
man. They know no one but the solitary herdsman who 
attends upon them, and even he at times dares not ven- 
ture to approach them. The low bellowings of these 
bulls, and their menacing aspect as they look down from 
their rocky height, give additional wildness to the savage 
scenery around. 

I have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer dis- 
quisition than I had intended on the several features of 
Spanish traveling; but there is a romance about all the 
recollections of the peninsula that is dear to the imagina- 
tion. 

It was on the first of May that my companion and my- 



6 THE ALHAMBMA. 

self set forth from Seville on our route to Granada. We 
had made all due preparations for the nature of our jour- 
ney, which lay through mountainous regions where the 
roads are little better than mere mule paths, and too fre- 
quently beset by robbers. The most valuable part of 
our luggage had been forwarded by the arrieros; we re- 
tained merely clothing and necessaries for the journey, 
and money for the expenses of the road, with a sufficient 
surplus of the latter to satisfy the expectations of rob- 
bers, should we be assailed, and to save ourselves from 
the rough treatment that awaits the too wary and empty- 
handed traveler. A couple of stout hired steeds were 
provided for ourselves, and a third for our scanty lug- 
gage and for the conveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad of 
about twenty years of age, who was to guide us through 
the perplexed mazes of the mountain roads, to take care 
of our horses, to act occasionally as our valet, and at all 
times as our guard; for he had a formidable trabucho, or 
carbine, to defend us from rateros, or solitary footpads, 
about which weapon he made much vainglorious boast, 
though, to the discredit of his generalship, I must say 
that it generally hung unloaded behind his saddle. He 
was, however, a faithful, cheery, kind-hearted creature, 
full of saws and proverbs as that miracle of squires, the 
renowned Sancho himself, whose name we bestowed upon 
him; and, like a true Spaniard, though treated by us 
with companionable familiarity, he never for a moment 
in his utmost hilarity overstepped the bounds of respect- 
ful decorum. 

Thus equipped and attended, we set out on our jour- 
ney with a genuine disposition to be pleased: with such 
a disposition, what a country is Spain for a traveler, 
where the most miserable inn is as full of adventure as 
an enchanted castle, and every meal is in itself an 
achievement! Let others repine at the lack of turnpike 
roads and sumptuous hotels, and all the elaborate com- 
forts of a country cultivated into tameness and common- 
place, but give me the rude mountain scramble, the rov- 
ing, haphazard wayfaring, the frank, hopsitable, though 
half-wild manners, that give such a true game flavor to 
romantic Spain 1 

Our first evening's entertainment had a relish of the 
kind. We arrived after sunset at u little town among 



TEE JOTJUKET. y 

the hills, after a fatiguing journey over a wide, houseless 
plain, where we had been repeatedly drenched with 
showers. In the inn were quartered a party of Migue- 
listas, who were patrolling the country in pursuit of 
robbers. The appearance of foreigners like ourselves was 
unusual in this remote town. Mine host with two or 
three old gossiping comrades in brown cloaks studied 
our passports in the corner of the posada, while an 
Alguazil took notes by the dim light of a lamp. The 
passports were in foreign languages and perplexed them, 
but our Squire Sancho assisted them in their studies, and 
magnified our importance with the grandiloquence of a 
Spaniard. In the meantime the magnificent distribu- 
tion of a few cigars had won the hearts of all around us. 
In a little while the whole community seemed put in 
agitation to make us welcome. The Corregidor himself 
waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed armed chair 
was ostentatiously bolstered into our room by our land- 
lady, for the accommodation of that important personage. 
The commander of the patrol took supper with us: a surly, 
talking, laughing, swaggering Andaluz, who had made 
a campaign in South America, and recounted his ex- 
ploits in love and war with much pomp of praise and 
vehemence of gesticulation, and mysterious rolling of 
the eye. He told us he had a list of all the robbers in 
the country, and meant to ferret out every mother's son 
of them; he ofliered us at the same time some of his 
soldiers as an escort. *^One is enough to protect you, 
signers; the robbers know me, and know my men; the 
sight of one is enough to spread terror through a whole 
sierra.'^ We thanked him for his offer, but assured him, 
in his own strain, that with the protection of our re- 
doubtable Squire Sancho we were not afraid of all the 
ladrones of Andalusia. 

While we were supping with our Andalusian friend 
we heard the notes of a guitar and the click of castanets, 
and presently a chorus of voices singing a popular air. 
In fact, mine host had gathered together the amateur 
singers and musicians and the rustic belles of the neighbor- 
hood, and on going forth the courtyard of the inn pre« 
sented a scene of true Spanish festivity. We took our 
seats with mine host and hostess and the commander of 
the patrol, under th^ arohwav of the court* The guitai 



S THE ALHAMBRA. 



1 



passed from hand to hand, but a jovial shoemaker was 
the Orpheus of the place. He* was a pleasant-looking 
fellow with huge black whiskers and a roguish eye. His 
sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; he touched the 
guitar with masterly skill, and sang little amorous ditties 
with an expressive leer at the women, with whom he was 
evidently a favorite. He afterward dance a fandango 
with a buxom Andalusian damsel, to the great delight of 
the spectators. But none of the females present could 
compare with mine host's pretty daughter Josefa, who 
had slipped away and made her toilette for the occasion, 
and had adorned her head with roses; and also distin- 
guished herself in a bolero with a handsome young 
dragoon. We had ordered our host to let wine and re- 
freshments ciroulate freely among the company, yet, 
though there was a motley assemblage of soldiers, mule- 
teers and villagers, no one exceeded the bounds of sober 
enjoyment. The scene was a study for a painter: the 
picturesque group of dancers; the troopers in their half- 
military dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown 
cloaks, nor must I omit to mention the old meager 
Alguazil in a short black cloak, who took no notice of 
anything going on, but sat in a corner diligently writing 
by the dim light of a huge copper lamp that might have 
figured in the days of Don Quixote. 

I am not writing a regular narrative, and do not pre- 
tend to give the varied events of several days' rambling 
over hill and dale, and moor and mountain. We traveled 
in true contrabandista style, taking everything, rough 
and smooth, as we found it, and mingling with all classes 
and conditions in a kind of vagabond companionship. It 
is the true way to travel in Spain. Knowing the scanty 
larders of the inns, and the naked tracts of country the 
traveler has often to traverse, we had taken care, on 
starting, to have the alforjas, or saddle-bags, of our 
squire well stocked with cold provisions, and his beta, or 
leathern bottle, which was of portly dimensions, filled to 
the neck with choice Valdepenas wine. As this was a 
munition for our campaign more important than even his 
trabucho, we exhorted him to have an eye to it, and I 
Avill do him the justice to say that his namesake, the 
trencher-loving Sancho himself, could not excel him as a 
provident purveyor. Though the alforjas wd beta wero 



TEE JOURNEY. 9 

repeatedly and vigorously assailed throughout the jour- 
ney, they appeared to have a miraculous property of 
being never empty; for our vigilant squire took care to 
sack everything that remained from our evening repasts 
at the inns, to supply our next day's luncheon. 

What luxurious noontide repasts have we made on the 
greensward by the side of a brook or fountain under a 
shady tree, and then what delicious siestas on our cloaks 
spread out on the herbage! 

We paused one day at noon for a repast of the kind. 
It was in a pleasant little green meadow, surrounded by 
hills covered with olive-trees. Our cloaks were spread 
on the grass under an elm-tree, by the side of a babbling 
rivulet; our horses were tethered where they might crop 
the herbage, and Sancho produced his alforjas with an 
air of triumph. They contained the contributions of 
four days' journeying, but had been signally enriched by 
the foraging of the previous evening, in a plenteous inn 
at Antequera. Our squire drew forth the heterogeneous 
contents one by one, and they seemed to have no end. 
First came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very little 
the worse for wear, then an entire partridge, then a great 
morsel of salted codfish wrapped in paper, then the 
residue of a ham, then the half of a pullet, together 
with several rolls of bread and a rabble rout of oranges, 
figs, raisins, and walnuts. His beta also had been re* 
cruited with some excellent wine of Malaga. At every 
fresh apparition from his larder he could enjoy our 
ludicrous surprise, throwing himself back on the grass 
and shouting with laughter. 

Nothing pleased this simple-hearted varlet more than 
to be compared, for his devotion to the trencher, to the 
renowned squire of Don Quixote. He was well versed 
in the history of the Don, and, like most of the common 
people of Spain, he firmly believed it to be a true history. 

''All that, however, happened a long time ago, sig- 
ner," said he to me, one day, with an inquiring look. 

''A very long time," was the reply. 

*'I dare say, more than a thousand years?" still loofc 
ing dubiously. 

^'I dare say? not less.*' 

The squire was satisfied. 

As we were making our repast above described, and 



10 ' THE ALHAMBHA 

diverting ourselves with the simple drollery of our squirt, 
a solitary beggar approached us, who had almost the 
look of a pilgrim. JEIe was evidently very old, with a 
gray beard, and supported himself on a staff, yet age had 
not borne him down; he was tall and erect, and had the 
wreck of a fine form. He wore a round Andalusian hat, 
a sheepskin jacket, and leathern breeches, gaiters, and 
sandals. His dress, though old and patched, was decent, 
his demeanor manly, and he addressed us with that gravd 
courtesy that is to be remarked in the lowest Spaniard. 
We were in a favorable mood for such a visitor, and in a 
freak of capricious charity gave him some silver, a loaf 
of fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice wine of 
Malaga. He received them thankfully, but without any 
groveling tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he 
held it up to the light with a slight beam of surprise in 
his eye; then quaffing it off at a draught: ^'It is many 
years,** said he, ^ 'since I have tasted such wine. It is a 
cordial to an old man's heart.** Then looking at the 
beautiful wheaten loaf: ^'Bendita sea tal pan!** (blessed 
be such bread!) So saying, he put it in his wallet. We 
urged him to eat it on the spot. "No, signors,** replied 
he, "the wine I had to drink, or leave; but the bread I 
must take home to share with my family.** 

Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permis* 
sion there, gave the old man some of the ample frag- 
ments of our repast; on condition, however, that he 
should sit down and make a meal. He accordingly took 
his seat at some little distance from us, and began to eat. 
Slowly, and with a sobriety and decorum that would have 
become a hidalgo. There was altogether a measured 
manner and a quiet self-possession about the old man 
that made me think he had seen better days; his lan- 
guage, too, though simple, had occasionally something 
picturesque and almost poetical in the phraseology. I set 
him down for some broken-down cavalier. I was mis- 
taken — it was nothing but the innate courtesy of a Span- 
iard, and the poetical turn of thought and language often 
to be found in the lowest classes of this clear-witted 
people. For fifty years, he told us, he had been a shep- 
herd, but now he was out of employ, and destitute. 
"When I was a young man,** said he, "nothing could 
harm or trouble me, I was always well, always gay; bat 



THE JOUENmr 11 

now I am seventy-nine years of age, and n beggar, and 
my heart begins to fail me/^ 

Still he was not a regular mendicant, it was not until 
recently that want had driven him to this degradation, 
and he gave a touching picture of the struggle between 
hunger and pride, when abject destitution first came 
upon him. He was returning from Malaga without 
money; he had not tasted food for some time, and was 
crossing one of the great plains of Spain, where there 
were but few habitations. When almost dead with 
hunger, he applied at the door of a venta, or country 
inn. ^'Perdona usted per Dios hermano!'^ (excuse us, 
brother, for God's sake!) was the reply — the usual mode 
in Spain of refusing a beggar. *'I turned away,'' said 
he, 'Svith shame greater than my hunger, for my heart 
was yet too proud. I came to a river with high banks 
and deep rapid current, and felt tempted to throw my- 
self in; what should such an old worthless wretched man 
as I live for! But when I was on the brink of the cur- 
rent I thought on the blessed Virgin, and turned away. 
I traveled on until I saw a country-seat at a little dis- 
tance from the road, and entered the outer gate of the 
courtyard. The door was shut, but there were two 
young signoras at a window. I approached, and begged: 
'Perdona usted per Dios hermano! (excuse us, brother, 
for God's sake!) and the window closed. I crept out of 
the courtyard; but hunger overcame me, and my heart 
gave way. I thought my hour was at hand. So I laid 
myself down at the gate, commended myself to the holy 
Virgin, and covered my head to die. In a little while 
afterward, the master of the house came home. Seeing 
me lying at his gate, he uncovered my head, had pity on 
my gray hairs, took me into his house, and gave me food. 
So, signers, you see that we should always put confi- 
dence in the protection of the Virgin." 

The old man was on his way to his native place, Archi- 
dona, which was close by the summit of a steep and 
rugged mountain. He pointed to the ruins of its old 
Moorish castle. That castle, he said, was inhabited by a 
Moorish king at the time of the wars of Granada. Queen 
Isabella invaded it with a great army, but the kinff 
looKed jown from bis castle among the clouds, and 
laughed her to ficoru- Upon this the Virgin appeared to 



IJ THE ALHAMBRA. 

the queen, and guided her and her army up a mysterious 
path of the mountain, which had never before been 
known. When the Moor saw her coming, he was aston- 
ished, and sj)ringing with his horse from a precipice, was 
dashed to pieces. The marks of his horse^s hoofs, said 
the old man, are to be seen on the margin of the rock to 
this day. And see, signers, yonder is the road by which 
the queen and her army mounted, you see it like a ribbon 
up the mountain side; but the miracle is that, though 
it can be seen at a distance, when you come near it dis- 
appears. The ideal road to which he pointed was evi- 
dent y a sandy ravine of the mountain, which looked 
narrow and defined at a distance, but became broad and 
indistinct on an approach. As the old man's heart 
warmed with wine and wassail, he went on to tell ns a 
story of the buried treasure left under the earth by the 
Moorish king. His own house was next to the founda- 
tions of the castle. The curate and notary dreamed 
three times of the treasure, and went to work at the place 
pointed out in their dreams. His own son-in-law heard 
the sound of their pick-axes and spades at night. What 
they found nobody knows; they became suddenly rich, 
but kept their own secret. Thus the old man had once 
been next door to fortune, but was doomed never to get; 
under the same roof. 

I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by 
the Moors which prevail through Dut Spain are most 
current among the poorest people. It is thus kind nature 
consoles with shadows for the lack of substantials. The 
thirsty man dreams of fountains and roaring streams, 
the hungry man of ideal banquets, and the poor man of 
heaps of hidden gold; nothing certainly is more magnifi- 
cent than the imagination of a beggar. 

The last traveling sketch which I shall give is a curi- 
ous scene at the little city of Loxa. This was a famous 
belligerent frontier post in the time of the Moors, and 
repulsed Ferdinand from its walls. It was the strong- 
hold of old Ali Atar, the father-in-law of Boabdil, when 
that fiery veteran sallied forth with his son-in-law on 
that disastrous inroad that ended in the death of the 
chieftain and the capture of the monarch. Loxa is 
wildly situated in a broken mountain pass, on the banks 
of the Xenil, among rocks and groves, and meadow* and 



TME JOURNEY. 13 

gardens. The people seem still to retain the bold, fiery 
spirit of the olden time. Our inn was suited to the 
place. It was kept by a young, handsome Andalusian 
widow, whose trim busquina of black silk fringed with 
bugles set off the play of a graceful form, and round 
pliant limbs. Her step was firm and elastic, her dark 
eye was full of fire, and the coquetry of her air and 
varied ornaments of her person showed that she was 
accustomed to be admired. 

She was well matched by a l3rother, nearly about her 
own age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian 
majo and maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well formed, 
with a clear olive complexion, a dark beaming eye, and 
curling chestnut whiskers that met under his chin. He 
was gallantly dressed in a short green velvet jacket, 
fitted to his shape, profusely decorated with silver but- 
tons, with a white handkerchief in each pocket. He 
had breeches of the same, with rows of buttons from the 
hips to the knees; a pink silk handkerchief round his 
neck, gathered through a ring, on the bosom of a neatly 
plaited shirt; a sash round the waist to match; bottinas 
or spatterdashes of the finest russet leather, elegantly 
worked and open at the calves to show his stockings, and 
russet shoes setting off a well-shaped foot. 

As he was standing at the door a horseman rode up 
and entered into low and earnest conversation with him. 
He was dressed in similar style, and almost with equal 
finery. A man about thirty, square built, with strong 
Eoman features, handsome, though slightly pitted with 
the small-pox, with a free, bold and somewhat daring air. 
His powerful black horse was decorated with tassels and 
fanciful trappings, and a couple of broad-mouthed blun- 
derbusses hung behind the saddle. He had the air of 
those contrabandistas that I have seen in the mountains 
of Konda, and evidently had a good understanding with 
the brother of mine hostess; nay, if I mistake not, he 
was a favorite admirer of the widow. In fact, the whole 
inn and its inmates had something of a contrabandista 
aspect, and the blunderbuss stood in a corner beside the 
guitar. The horseman I haue mentioned passed his 
evening in the posada, and sang several bold mountain 
romances with great spirit. 

As we were at supper, two poor Asturians put in ia 



14 THE ALHAMBBA. 

distress, begging food and a night's lodging. They had 
been waylaid by robbers as they came from a fair among 
the mountains, robbed of a horse, which carried all their 
stock in trade, stripped of their money and most of their 
apparel, beaten for having offered resistance, and left 
almost naked in the road. My companion, with a prompt 
generosity natural to him, ordered them a supper and a 
bed, and gave them a supply of money to help them for- 
ward toward their home. 

As the evening advanced the dramatis personm thick- 
ened. A large man, about sixty years of age, of power- 
ful frame, came strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. 
He was dressed in the ordinary Andalusian costume, but 
had a huge saber tucked under his arm, wore large 
mustaches and had something of a lofty, swaggering air. 
Every one seemed to regard him with great deference. 

Our man, Sancho, whispered to us that he was Don 
Ventura Rodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, 
famous for his prowess and the strength of his arm. In 
the time of the French invasion he surprised six troop- 
ers who were asleep. He first secured their horses, then 
attacked them with his saber; killed some, and took the 
rest prisoners. For this exploit the king allows him a 
peceta (the fifth of a duro, or dollar) per day, and has 
dignified him with the title of Don. 

I was amused to notice his swelling language and 
demeanor. He was evidently a thorough Andalusian, 
boastful as he was brave. His saber was always in his 
hand, or under his arm. He carries it always about with 
him as a child does a doll, calls it his Santa Teresa, and 
says that Avhen he draws it ^Hembla la tierra!'' (the 
earth trembles!) 

1 sat until a late hour listening to the varied themes 
of this motley group, who mingled together with the 
unreserve of a Spanish posada. We had contrabandista 
songs, stories of robbers, guerrilla exploits, and Moorish 
legends. The last one from our handsome landlady, 
who gave a poetical account of the infiernos, or infernal 
regions of Loxa — dark caverns, in which subterraneous 
streams and waterfalls make a mysterious sound. The 
(3ommon people say they are money coiners, shut up 
there from the time of the Moors, and that the Moorish 
kings kept their treasures in these caverns. 



OOVERNMENT OP THE ALBAMBnA. U 

Were it the purport of this work, I could fill its pages 
with the incidents and scenes of our rambling expedition, 
but other themes invite me. Journeying in this man- 
ner, we at length emerged from the m_ountains and en- 
tered upon the beautiful Vega of Granada. Here we 
took our last midday's repast under a grove of olive- 
trees, on the borders of a rivulet, with the old Moorish 
capital in the distance, dominated by the ruddy towers 
of the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy summits 
of the Sierra Nevada shone like silver. The day was 
without a cloud, and the heat of the sun tempered by 
cool breezes from the mountains; after our repast we 
spread our cloaks and took our last siesta, lulled by the 
humming of bees among the flowers, and the notes of the 
ring doves from the neighboring olive-trees. When the 
sultry hours were past we resumed our journey, and 
after passing between hedges of aloes and Indian figs, 
and through a wilderness of gardens, arrived about sun- 
set at the gates of Granada. 



GOVERNMENT OP THE ALHAMBRA. 

To the traveler imbued with a feeling for the histor- 
ical and poetical, the Alhambra of Granada is as much an 
object of veneration as is the Caaba, or sacred house of 
Mecca, to all true Moslem pilgrims. How many legends 
and traditions, true and fabulous, how many songs and 
romances, Spanish and Arabian, of love and war and 
chivalry, are associated with this romantic pile! The 
reader may judge, therefore, of our delight, when, shortly 
after our arrival in Granada, the governor of Alhambra 
gave us permission to occupy his vacant apartments in 
the Moorish palace. My companion was soon summoned 
away by the duties of his station, but I remained for 
several months spellbound in the old enchanted pile. 
The following papers are the result of my reveries and 
researches during that delicious thraldom. If they 
have the power of imparting any of the witching charms 
of the place to the imagination of the reader, he will not 
repine at lingering with me for a season in the legendary 
halls of the Alhambra. 



16 TBE ALHAMBRA. 

The Alhambra is an ancient fortress or castellated 
palace of the moorish kings of Granada, where they held 
dominion over this their boasted terrestrial paradise, and 
made their last stand for empire in Spain. The palace 
occupies but a portion of the fortress, the walls of which, 
studded with towers, stretch irregularly round the whole 
crest of a lofty hill that overlooks the city and forms a 
spire of the Sierra Nevada, or Snowy Mountain. 

In the time of the Moors the fortress was capable o! 
containing an army of forty thousand men within its 
precincts, and served occasionally as a stronghold of the 
sovereigns against their rebellious subjects. After the 
kingdom had passed into the hands of the Christians 
the Alhambra continued a royal demesne, and was occa- 
sionally inhabited by the Castilian monarchs. The Em- 
peror Charles V. began a sumptuous palace within its 
walls, but was deterred from completing it by repeated 
shocks of earthquakes. The last royal residents were 
Philip V. and his beautiful Queen Elizabetta, of Parma, 
early in the eighteenth century. 

Great preparations were made for their reception. 
The palace and gardens were placed in a state of repair 
and a new suit of apartments erected, and decorated by 
artists brought from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns 
was transient; and after their departure, the palace once 
more became desolate. Still the place was maintained 
with some military state. The governor held it imme- 
diately from the crown: its jurisdiction extended down 
into the suburbs of the city and was independent of the 
captain-general of Granada. A considerable garrison was 
kept up; the governor had his apartments in the old 
Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada with- 
out some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a 
little town of itself, having several streets of houses 
within its walls, together with a Franciscan convent and 
a parochial church. 

The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow 
to the Alhambra. Its beautiful walls became desolate 
and some of them fell to ruin; the gardens were destroyed, 
and the fountains ceased to play. By degrees the dwell- 
ings became filled up with a loose and lawless population— 
contrabandistas, who availed themselves of its independ- 
ent jurisdiction, to carry on a wide and daring course 



GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA, 17 

of smuggling, and thieves and rogues of all sorts, who 
made this their place of refuge, from whence they might 
depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The strong 
arm of government at length interposed. The whole 
community was thoroughly sifted; none were suffered to 
remain but such as were of honest character and had 
legitimate right to a residence; the greater part of the 
houses were demolished, and a mere hamlet left, with 
the parochial church and the Franciscan convent. 

During the recent troubles in Spain, when Granada 
was in the hands of the French, the Alhambra was gar- 
risoned by their troops, and the palace was occasionally 
inhabited by the French commander. With that en- 
lightened taste which has ever distinguished the French 
nation in their conquests, this monument of Moorish 
elegance and grandeur was rescued from the absolute 
ruin and desolation that were overwhelming it. The 
roofs were repaired, the saloons and galleries protected 
from the weather, the gardens cultivated, the water- 
courses restored, the fountains once more made to throw 
up their sparkling showers: and Spain may thank her 
invaders for having preserved to her the most beautiful 
and interesting of her historical monuments. 

On the departure of the French, they blew up several 
towers of the outer wall, and left the fortifications 
scarcely tenable. Since that time the military impor- 
tance of the post is at an end. The garrison is a handful 
of invalid soldiers, whose principal duty is to guard some 
of the outer towers, which serve occasionally as a prison 
of state; and the governor, abandoning the lofty hill of 
the Alhambra, resides in the center of Granada, for the 
more convenient dispatch of his otficial duties. I can- 
not conclude this brief notice of the state of the fortress 
without bearing testimony to the honorable exertions of 
its present commander, Don Francisco de Salis Serna, 
who is tasking all the limited resources at his command 
to put the palace in a state of repair; and by his judi- 
cious precautions has for some time arrested its too cer- 
tain decay. Had his predecessors discharged the duties 
of their station with equal fidelity the Alhambra miglit 
yet have remained in almost its pristine beauty; were 
government to second him with means equal to his zeal 
this edifice might still be preserve^ to adorn the land 



18 THE ALHAMBRA. 

and to attract the curious and enlightened of every 
clime, for many generations. 



! INTEEIOR OF THE ALHAMBEA. 

t 

The Alhambra has been so often and so minutely de* 
scribed by travelers that a mere sketch will probably be 
suflScient for the reader to refresh his recollection; I will 
give, therefore, a brief account of our visit to it the morn- 
ing after our arrival in Granada. 

Leaving our posada of La Espada, we traversed the 
renowned square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of 
Moorish jousts and tournaments, now a crowded market 
place. From thence we proceeded along the Zacatin, 
the main street of what was the great Bazaar, in the 
time of the Moors, where the small shops and narrow 
alleys still retain their Oriental character. Crossing an 
open place in front of the palace of the captain-general, 
we ascended a confined and winding street, the name of 
which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It 
is called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres: from a 
Moorish family, famous in chronicle and song. This 
street led up to a mansion gateway of Grecian architec- 
ture, built by Charles V., forming the entrance to the 
domains of the Alhambra, 

At the gate were two or three ragged and superan- 
nuated soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors 
of the Zegris and the Abencerrages; while a tall, meager 
varlet, whose rusty brown cloak was evidently intended 
to conceal the ragged state of his nether garments, was 
lounging in the sunshine and gossiping with an ancient 
sentinel, on duty. He joined us as we entered the gate, 
and offered his services to show us the fortress. 

I have a traveler's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did 
not altogether like the garb of the applicant: 

'*You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?'' 

^'Nifiguno mas — pues, seflor, soy hijo de la Alhambra.'^ 

(Nobody better — in fact, sir, I am a son of the 
Alhambra.) 

The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical 
way of expressing themselves — '*Asonof the Alhambra*/' 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 1 9 

the appellation caught me at once; the very tattered 
garb of my new acquaintance assumed a dignity in my 
eyes. It was emblematic of the features of the place, 
And became the progeny of a ruin. 

I put some further questions to him, and found his 
title was legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress 
from generation to generation ever since the time of the 
conquest. His name was Mateo Ximenes. '*Then, 
perhaps,'^ said I, ^'you may be a descendant from the 
great Cardinal Ximenes.'^ 

^*Dios sabe! God knows, seflor. It may be so. We 
are the oldest family in the Alhambra. Viejos Oris- 
tianosy old Christians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. 
I know we belong to 'some great family or other, but I 
forget who. My father knows all about it. He has the 
coat of arms hanging up in his cottage, up in the for- 
tress. ^^ There is never a Spaniard, however poor, but has 
some claim to high pedigree. The first title of this 
ragged worthy, however, had completely captivated me, 
so I gladly accepted the services of the '*son of the 
Alhambra.^^ 

We now found ourselves in a deep, narrow ravine, filled 
with beautiful groves, with a steep avenue and various 
footpaths winding through it, bordered with stone seats 
and ornamented with fountains. To our left, we beheld 
the towers of the Alhambra beetling above us; to our 
right, on the opposite side of the ravine, we were equally 
dominated by rival towers on a rocky eminence. These, 
we were told, were the Torres Vermejos, or Vermilion 
towers, so called from their ruddy hue. No one knows 
their origin. They are of a date much anterior to the 
Alhambra. Some suppose them to have been built by 
the Eomans; others, by some wandering colony of Phoe- 
nicians. Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we 
arrived at the foot of a huge square Moorish tower, form- 
ing a kind of barbican, through which passed the main 
entrance to the fortress. Within the barbican was an- 
other group of veteran invalids, one mounting guard at 
the portal, while the rest, wrapped in their tattered 
cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal is called 
the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its 
porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate 
trial of potty causes; a custom common to the Oriental 



20 THE ALEAMBBA. 

nations, and occasionally alluded to in the sacred Scrip 
tures. 

The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by 
an immense Arabian arch of the horseshoe form, which 
springs to half the height of the tower. On the key- 
stone of this arch is engraven a gigantic hand. Within 
the vestibule, on the keystone of the portal, is engraven, 
in like manner, a gigantic key. Those who pretend to 
some knowledge of Mohammedan symbols affirm that the 
hand is the emblem of doctrine, and the key of faith; 
the latter, they add, was emblazoned on the standard of 
the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in opposi- 
tion to the Christian emblem of the cross. A different 
explanation, however, was given by the legitimate ^'son 
of the Alhambra,'* and one more in unison with the 
notions of the common people, who attach something of 
mystery and magic to everything Moorish, and have all 
kinds of superstitions connected with this old Moslem 
fortress. 

According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down 
from the oldest inhabitants, and which he had from his 
father and grandfather, that the hand and key were 
magical devices on which the fate of the Alhambra de- 
pended. The Moorish king who built it was a great 
magician, and, as some believed, had sold himself to the 
devil, and had laid the whole fortress under a magic 
spell. By this means it had remained standing for sev- 
eral hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes, 
while almost all the other buildings of the Moors had 
fallen to ruin and disappeared. The spell, the tradition 
went on to say, would last until the hand on the outer 
arch should reach down and grasp the key, when the 
whole pile would tumble to pieces, and all the treasures 
buried beneath it by the Moors would be revealed. 

Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured 
to pass through the spellbound gateway, feeling some 
little assurance against magic art in the protection of the 
Virgin, a statue of whom we observed above the portal. 

After passing through the barbican we ascended a 
narrow lane, winding between walls, and came on an 
open esplanade within the fortress, called the Plaza do 
los Algibes, or Place of the Cisterns, from great reser- 
ygirs which undermine it^ cut in the living rock by the 



INTERIOR OF THE ALBAMBRA, oj 

Moors, for the supply of the fortress. Here, also, is a 
well of immense depth, furnishing the purest and coldest 
of water, another monument of the delicate taste of the 
Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to ob- 
tain that element in its crystal purity. 

In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile com- 
menced by Charles V., intended, it is said, to eclipse the 
residence of the Moslem kings. With all its grandeur 
and architectural merit, it appeared to us like an arrogant 
intrusion, and passing by it we entered a simple, unosten- 
tatious portal, opening into the interior of the Moorish 
palace. 

The transition was almost magical; it seemed as if we 
were at once transported into other times and another 
realm, and were treading the scenes of Arabian story. 
We found ourselves in a great court paved with white 
marble and decorated at each end with light Moorish 
peristyles. It is called the court of the Alberca. In the 
center was an immense basin, or fish-pool, a hundred 
and thirty feet in length by thirty in breadth, stocked 
with gold-fish, and bordered by hedges of roses. At the 
upper end of this court rose the great tower of Comares. 

From the lower end, we passed through a Moorish 
archway into the renowned Court of Lions. There is no 
part of the edifice that gives us a more complete idea of 
its original beauty and magnificence than this; for none 
has suffered so little from the ravages of time. In the 
center stands the fountain famous in song and story. 
The alabaster basins still shed their diamond drops, and 
the twelve lions which support them cast forth their 
crystal streams as in the days of Boabdil. The court is 
laid out in flower-beds, and surrounded by light Arabian 
arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender pil- 
lars of white marble. The architecture, like that of all 
the other parts of the palace, is characterized by ele- 
gance rather than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and 
graceful taste, and a disposition to indolent enjoyment. 
When we look upon the fairy tracery of the peristyles 
and the apparently fragile fretwork of the walls, it is 
difficult to believe that so much has survived the wear 
and tear of centuries, the shocks of earthquakes, the 
violence of war, and the quiet, though no less baneful, 
pilferings of the tasteful traveler. It is almost sufficieni 



32 THE AlBAMBBA. 

to excuse the popular tradition that the whole is pro-» 
tected by a magic charm. 

On one side of the court a portal richly adorned opens 
into a lofty hall paved with white marble, and called the 
Hall of the two Sisters. A cupola or lantern admits a 
tempered light from above, and a free circulation of air. 
The lower part of the walls is incrusted with beautiful 
Moorish tiles, on some of which are emblazoned the 
escutcheons of the Moorish monarchs: the upper part is 
faced with the line stucco work invented at Damascus, 
consisting of large plates cast in molds and artfully 
joined, so as to have the appearance of having been 
laboriously sculptured by the hand into light relievos 
and fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the 
Koran, and poetical inscriptions in Arabian and Celtic 
characters. These decorations of the walls and cupolas 
are richly gilded, and the interstices paneled with lapis 
lazuli and other brilliant and enduring colors. On each 
side of the wall are recesses for ottomans and arches. 
Above an inner porch is a balcony which communicated 
with the women's apartment. The latticed balconies 
still remain, from whence the dark-eyed beauties of the 
harem might gaze unseen upon the entertainments of 
the hall below. 

It is impossible to contemplate this once favorite abode 
of Oriental manners without feeling the early associa- 
tions of Arabian romance, and almost expecting to see 
the white arm of some mysterious princess beckoning 
from the balcony, or some dark eye sparkling through 
the lattice. The abode of beauty is here, as if it had 
been inhabited but yesterday — but where are the Zoraydas 
and Linderaxas! 

On the opposite side of the Court of Lions is the hall 
of the Abencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers 
of that illustrious line, who were here perfidiously mas- 
sacred. There are some who doubt the whole truth of 
this story, but our humble attendant, Mateo, pointed out 
the very wicket of the portal through which they are 
said to have been introduced, one by one, and the white 
marble fountain in the center of the hall, where they 
were beheaded. He showed us also certain broad, ruddy 
stains in the pavement, traces of their blood, whi/;h, 
according to popular belief, can never be effaced. Find* 



INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 23 

ing we listened to him with easy faith, he added that 
there was often heard at night, in the Court of the Lions, 
a low, confused sound, resembling the murmurings of a 
multitude; with now and then a faint tinkling, like the 
distant clank of chains. These noises are probably pro- 
duced by the bubbling currents and tinkling falls of 
water, conducted under the pavement through the pipes 
and channels to supply the fountains; but according to 
the legend of the son of the Alhambra, they are made by 
the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages, who nightly 
haunt the scene of their suffering, and invoke the venge- 
ance of Heaven on their destroyer. 

From the Court of Lions we retraced our steps through 
the court of the Alberca, or great fish-pool, crossing 
which, we proceeded to the tower of Comares, so called 
from the name of the Arabian architect. It is of massive 
strength and lofty height, domineering over the rest of 
the edifice and overhanging the steep hillside, which 
descends abruptly to the banks of the Darro. A Moorish 
archway admitted us into a vast and lofty hall, which 
occupies the interior of the tower and was the grand 
audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence called 
the hall of Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of past 
magnificence. The walls are richly stuccoed and dec- 
orated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilings of cedar 
wood, almost lost in obscurity from its height, still gleam 
with rich gilding and the brilliant tints of the Arabian 
pencil. On three sides of the saloon are deep windows, 
cut through the immense thickness of the walls, the 
balconies of which look down upon the verdant valley of 
the Darro, the streets and convents of the Albaycin, and 
command a prospect of the distant Vega. I might go 
on to describe the other delightful apartments of this 
side of the palace; the Tocador or toilet of the Queen, 
an open belvedere on the summit of the tower, where the 
Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the moun- 
tain and the prospect of the surrounding paradise. The 
secluded little patio or garden of Lindaraxa, with its 
alabaster fountain, its thickets of roses and myrtles, of 
citrons and oranges. The cool halls and grottoes of the 
baths, where the glare and heat of day are tempered into 
a self-mysterious light and a pervading freshness. But 
1 appear to dwell minutely on these scenes. My obieet 



24 THE ALEAMBRA. 

is merely to give the reader a general introduction in an 
abode, where, if disposed, he may linger and loiter with 
me through the remainder of this work, gradually be- 
coming familiar with all its beauties. 

An abundant supply of water, brought from the moun- 
tains by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout 
the palace, supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling 
in jets within its halls, or murmuring in channels along 
the marble pavements. When it has paid its tribute to 
the royal pile, and visited its gardens and pastures, it 
flows down the long avenue leading to the city, tinkling 
in rills, gushing in fountains, and maintaining a per- 
petual verdure in those groves that embower and beautify 
the whole hill of the Alhambra. 

Those, only, who have sojourned in the ardent climates 
of the South can appreciate the delights of an abode 
combining the breezy coolness of the mountain with the 
freshness and verdure of the valley. 

While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, 
and the parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate 
airs from the Sierra Nevada play through the lofty halls, 
bringing with them the sweetness of the surrounding 
gardens. Everything invites to that indolent repose, the 
bliss of Southern climes; and while the half-shut eye 
looks out from shaded balconies upon the glittering 
landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling of groves and 
the murmur of running streams. 



THE TOWER OP COMARES. 

The reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Al- 
hambra, and may be desirous of a general idea of its 
vicinity. The morning is serene and lovely; the sun has 
not gained sufficient power to destroy the freshness of 
the night; we will mount to the summit of the tower of 
Comares, and take a bird's-eye view of Granada and its 
environs. 

Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my 
steps into this vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, 
which opens to the hall of Ambassadors. We will not 
^nter the hall, however, but turn to the left, to this 



tjSe tower of CO mares. 25 

small door, opening in the wall. Have a care! here are 
steep winding steps and but scanty light. Yet, up this 
narrow, obscure and winding staircase the proud mon- 
archs of Granada and their queens have often ascended 
to the battlements of the tower to watch the approach of 
Christian armies or to gaze on the battles in the Vega. 
At length we are upon the terraced roof, and may take 
breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over 
the splendid panorama of city and country, of rocky 
mountain, verdant valley and fertile plain; of castle, 
cathedral, Moorish towers and Gothic domes, crumbling 
ruins and blooming groves. 

Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes im- 
mediately below. See — on this side we have the whole 
plan of the Alhambra laid open to us, and can look 
down into its courts and gardens. At the foot of the 
tower is the Court of the Alberca with its great tank or 
fish-pool bordered with flowers; and yonder is the Court 
of Lions, with its famous fountain, and its light Moorish 
arcades; and in the center of the pile is the little garden 
of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart of the building, with 
its roses and citrons and shrubbery of emerald green. 

That belt of battlements studded with square towers, 
straggling round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer 
boundary of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may 
perceive, are in ruins, and their massive fragments are 
buried among vines, fig-trees and aloes. 

Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a 
giddy height; the very foundations of the tower rise 
above the groves of the steep hillside. And see, a long 
fissure in the massive walls shows that the tower has 
been rent by some of the earthquakes which from time 
to time have thrown Granada into consternation; and 
which, sooner or later, must reduce this crumbling pile 
to a mere mass of ruin. The deep, narrow glen below us, 
which gradually widens as it opens from the mountains, 
is the valley of the Darro; you see the little river wind- 
ing its way under embowered terraces and among 
orchards and flower gardens. It is a stream famous in 
old times for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted 
occasionally in search of the precious ore. 

Some of those white pavilions which here and there 
gleam from among groves and vineyards were rustic re- 



2g THE ALEAMBRA. 

treats of the Moors, to enjoy the refreshment of theif 

gardens. , j i ^ 

The airy palace with its tall white towers and long 
arcades, which breast yon mountain, among pompous 
groves and hanging gardens, is the Genera iffe, a sum- 
mer palace of the Moorish kings, to which they resorted 
during the sultry months, to enjoy a still more breezy 
region than that of the Alhambra. The naked summit 
of the height above it, where you behold some shapeless 
;ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moor; so called 
trom having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boabdil 
during the time of an Insurrection, where he seated him- 
self and looked down mournfully upon his rebellious 

^^ A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from 
the valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill 
nearly at the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees be- 
vond is the Alameda along the bank of the Darro, a 
favorite resort in evenings, and a rendezvous of lovers in 
the summer nights, when the guitar may be heard a„ a 
late hour from the benches along its walks. At present 
there are but a few loitering monks to be seen there, and 
a group of water carriers from the fountain of Avellanos. 
You start! 'Tis nothing but a hawk we have fright- 
ened from his nest. This old tower is a complete brood- 
ing-place for vagrant birds. The swallow^ and martlet 
abound in every chink and cranny, and circle about it 
' the whole day long; while at night, when all other birds 
have gone to rest, the moping owl comes out of its lurk- 
ing place and utters its boding cry from the battlenients. 
See how the hawk we have dislodged sweeps away below 
us, skimming over the tops of the trees, and sailing up 
to ruins above the Generalise. 

Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes 
to tbe west. Here you behold in the aistance a range of 
mountains bounding the Vega, the ancient barrier be- 
tween Moslem Granada an<J the land of the Christians. 
Among the heights you may still discern warrior towns, 
whose gray walls and battlements seem of a piece with 
the rocks on which they are built; while here and there 
is a solitary atalaya or watch-tower, mounted on some 
lofty point, and looking down as if it were from the sky, 
into the valleys on either side. It was down the detiles 



THE TOWEU OF COM ABES, o^ 



r^ i 



of these mountains, by the pass of Lope, that the Chris- 
tian armies descended into the Vega. It was round the 
base of yon gray and naked mountain, alm.ost insulated 
from the rest, and stretching its bald, rocky promontory 
into the bosom of the plain, that the invading squadrons 
would come bursting into view, with flaunting banners 
and the clangor of drums and trumpetSo How changed 
is the scene! Instead of the glittering line of mailed 
warriors, we behold the patient train of the toilful mule- 
teer, slowly moving along the skirts of the mountain. 

Behind that promontory is the eventful bridge of 
Pmos, renowned for many a bloody strife between Moors 
and Christians; but still more renowned as being the 
place where Columbus was overtaken and called back by 
the messenger of Queen Isabella just as he was depart- 
ing m despair to carry his project of discovery to the 
court of France. 

Behold another place famous in the history of the dis- 
coverer: yon line of walls and towers, gleaming in the 
morning sun in the very center of the Vega; the city of 
Santa Fe, built by the Catholic sovereigns during 'the 
siege of Granada, after a conflagration had destroyed 
their camp. It was to these walls that Columbus was 
called back by the heroic queen, and within them the 
treaty was concluded that led to the discovery of the 
Western World. 

Here, toward the south, the eye revels on the luxuri- 
ant beauties of the Vega, a blooming wilderness of grove 
and garden, and teeming orchards, with the Xenil wind- 
ing through it in silver links and feeding innummerable 
rills, conducted through ancient Moorish channels, 
which maintain the landscape in perpetual verdure. 
Here are the beloved bowers and gardens and rural re- 
treats for which the Moors fought with such desperate 
valor. The very farmhouses and hovels which are 
now inhabited by the boors retain traces of arabesques 
and other tasteful decorations, which show them to have 
been elegant residences in the days of the Moslems. 

Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, 
to the south, a line of arid hills down which a long train 
of mules is slowly moving. It was from the summit of 
one of those hills that the unfortunate Boabdil cast back 
his last look upon Granada and gave vent to the agony of 



28 THE ALHAMBRA 

his soul. It is the spot famous in song and story/* The 
last sigh of the Moor/* 

Now raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile 
of mountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the 
blue sky. It is the Sierra N^evada, the pride and delight 
of Granada; the source of her cooling breezes and per- 
petual verdure, of her gushing fountains and perennial 
streams. It is this glorious pile of mountains that gives 
to Granada that combination of delights so rare in a 
southern city. The fresh vegetation and the temperate 
airs of a northern climate, with the vivifying ardor of a 
tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a southern sky. 
[t is this aerial treasury of snow, which, melting in pro- 
portion to the increase of the summer heat, sends down 
rivulets and streams through every glen and gorge of the 
Alpuxarras, diffusing emerald verdure and fertility 
throughout a chain of happy and sequestered valleys. 

These mountains may well be called the glory of 
Granada. They dominate the whole extent of Andalu- 
sia, and may be seen from its most distant parts. The 
muleteer hails them as he views their frosty peaks from 
the sultry level of the plain; and the Spanish mariner on 
the deck of his bark, far, far off on the bosom of the 
blue Mediterranean, watches them with a pensive eye, 
thinks of delightful Granada, and chants in low voice 
some old romance about the Moors. 

But enough, the sun is high above the mountains, and 
is pouring his full fervor upon our heads. Already the 
terraced roof of the town is hot beneath our feet, let us 
abandon it, and descend and refresh ourselves under the 
arcades by the fountain of the Lions. 



EEFLECTIONS. 

Oiq- THE MOSLEM DOMII^ATIOK IN SPAIN. 

One of my favorite resorts is the balcony of the cen* 
tral window of the hall of Ambassadors, in the lofty 
tower of Comares. I have just been seated there, enjoy- 
ing the close of a long, brilliant day. The sun, as he 
sank behind the purple mountains of Albania, sent a 
stream of effulgence up the valley of the Darro that 



REFLECTIONS, 29 

spread a melancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the 
Alhambra, while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry 
vapor that caught the setting ray, seemed spread out in 
the distance like a golden sea. Not a breath of air dis- 
turbed the stillness of the hour, and though the faint 
sound of music and merriment now and then arose from 
the gardens of the Darro, it but rendered more impress- 
ive the monumental silence of the pile which overshad- 
owed me. It was one of those hours and scenes in which 
memory asserts an almost magical power, and, like the 
evening sun beaming on these moldering towers, sends 
back her retrospective rays to light up the glories of the 
past. 

As I sat watching the effect of the declining daylight 
upon this Moorish pile I was led into a consideration of 
the light, elegant and voluptuous character prevalent 
throughout its internal architecture, and to contrast it 
with the grand but gloomy solemnity of the Gothic 
edifices reared by the Spanish conquerors. The very 
architecture^ thus bespeaks the opposite and irreconcilable 
natures of the two warlike people who so long battled 
here for the mastery of the peninsula. By degrees I fell 
into a course of musing upon the singular features of the 
Arabian or Morisco Spaniards, whose whole existence is 
as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most 
anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and 
durable as Avas their dominion we have no one distinct 
title by which to designate them. They were a nation, 
as it were, without legitimate country or a name. A 
remote wave of the great Arabian inundation, cast upon 
the shores of Europe, they seemed to have all the im- 
petus of the first rush of the torrent. Their course of 
conquest from the rock of Gibraltar to the cliffs of the 
Pyrenees was as rapid and brilliant as the Moslem 
victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not been 
checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe, 
might have been overrun with the same facility as the 
empires of the East, and the crescent might at this day 
have glittered on the fanes of Paris and of London. 

Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed 
hordes of Asia and Africa that formed this great irrup- 
tion gave up the Moslem principles of conquest, and 
sought to establish in Spain a peaceful und permanent 



80 THE ALHAMBRA. 

dominion. As conquerors their heroism was only 
equaled by their moderation; and in both, for a time, 
they excelled the nations with whom they contendedo 
Severed from their nativl3 homes, they loved the land 
given them, as they supposed, by Allah, and strove to 
embellish it with everything that could administer to the 
happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their 
power in a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently 
cultivating the arts and sciences and promoting agricul- 
ture, manufactures, and commerce, they gradually 
formed an empire unrivaled for its prosperity, by any of 
the empires of Christendom; and diligently drawing 
round them the graces and refinements that marked the 
Arabian empire in the East at the time of its greatest 
civilization, they diffused the light of Oriental knowledge 
through the western regions of benighted Europe. 

The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Chris- 
tian artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. 
The universities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and 
Granada were sought by the pale student from other 
lands, to acquaint himself with the sciences of the Arabs 
and the treasured lore of antiquity; the lovers of the gay 
sciences resorted to Cordova and Granada to imbibe the 
poetry and music of the East; and the steel-clad warriors 
of the North hastened thither to accomplish themselves 
in the graceful exercises and courteous usages of chivalry. 

If the Moslem monuments in Spain; if the Mosque of 
Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville and the Alhambra of 
Granada, still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the 
power and permanency of their dominion, can the boast 
be derided as arrogant and vain? Generation after 
generation, century after century had passed away, and 
still they maintained possession of the land. A period 
had elapsed longer than that which has passed since 
England was subjugated by the Norman conqueror; and 
the descendants of Musa and Tarik might as little antici- 
pate being driven into exile, across the same straits 
traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the descend- 
ants of Kollo and William and their victorious peers may 
dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy. 

With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain 
was but a brilliant exotic that took no permanent root in 
the soil it embellished. Severed from all their weiglv 



THE SO U8EE0LD. 31 

bors of the West by impassable barriers of faith and man^ 
ners, and separated by seas and deserts from their kin- 
dred of the East^ they were an isolated people. Their 
whole existence was a prolonged though gallant and 
chivalric struggle for a foothold in a usurped land. 
They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The 
peninsula was the great battle ground where the Gothic 
conquerors of the North and the Moslem conquerors of 
the East met and strove for mastery; and the fiery 
courage of the Arab was at length subdued by the ob- 
stinate and persevering valor of the Goth. 

Never was the annihilation of a people more complete 
than that of the Morisco Spaniards. Where are they? 
Ask the shores of Barbary and its desert places. The 
exiled remnant of their once-powerful empire disap- 
peared among the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be 
a nation. They have not even left a distinct name be- 
hind them, though for nearly eight centuries they were 
a distinct people. The home of their adoption and of 
their occupation for ages refuses to acknowledge them but 
as invaders and usurpers. A few broken monuments 
are all that remain to bear witness to their power and 
dominion, as solitary rocks felt far in the interior bear 
testimony to the extent of some ^^ast inundation. Such 
is the Alhambra. A Moslem pile in the midst of a 
Christian land; an Oriental palace amid the Gothic 
edifices of the West; an elegant memento of a brave, in- 
telligent and graceful people, who conquered, ruled, and 
passed away. 



THE HOUSEHOLD. 

IT is time that I give some idea of my domestic ar- 
rangements in this singular residence. The royal palace 
of the Alhambra is intrusted to the care of a good old 
maiden dame called Dofia Antonia Molina, but who, 
according to Spanish custom, goes by the more neighborly 
appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt Antonia). She main- 
tains the Moorish halls and gardens in order, and shows 
them to strangers; in consideration of which she is 
allowed all the perquisites received from visitors and all 



B2 THB ALBAMBRA. 

the produce of the gardens, excepting that she is ex- 
pected to pay an occasional tribute of fruits and flowers 
to the governor. Her residence is in a corner of the 
palacC;, and her family consists of a nephew and niece, 
the children of two different brothers. The nephew, 
Manuel Molina, is a young man of sterling worth and 
Spanish gravity. He has served in the armies both m 
Spain and the West Indies, but is now studying medicine 
in hopes of one day or other becoming physician to the 
fortress, a post worth at least a hundred and forty dollars 
a year. As to the niece, she is a plump little black-eyed 
Andalusian damsel named Dolores, but who from her 
bright looks and cheerful disposition merits a merrier 
name. She is the declared heiress of all her aunt's pos- 
sessions, consisting of certain ruinous tenements in the 
fortress, yielding a revenue of about one ^hundred and 
fifty dollars. I had not been long in the Alhambra be- 
fore I discovered that a quiet courtship was going on 
between the discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin, 
and that nothing was wanting to enable them to join 
their hands and expectations but that he should receive 
his doctor's diploma, and purchase a dispensation from 
the pope, on account of their consanguinity. 

With the good dame Antonia I have made a treaty, 
according to which she furnishes me with board and 
lodging, while the merry-hearted little Dolores keeps my 
apartment in order and oflBciates as handmaid at meal 
times. I have also at my command a tall, stuttering, 
yellow-haired lad named Pepe, who w^orks in the garden, 
and would fain have acted as valet, but in this he was 
forestalled by Mateo Ximenes, ^'the son of the Alham- 
bra.'' This alert and officious wight has managed, some- 
how or other, to stick by me ever since I first encoun- 
tered him at the outer gate of the fortress, and to weave 
himself into all my plans, until he has fairly appointed 
and installed himself my valet, cicerone, guide, guard, 
and historiographic squire; and I have been obliged to 
improve the state of his wardrobe, that he may not dis- 
grace his various functions, so that he has cast off his 
old brown mantle, as a snake does his skin, and now 
figures about the fortress with a smart Andalusian hat 
and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction and the great as- 
tonishment of his comrades. The chief fault of honest 



THE HOUSEHOLD. 33 

Mateo is an over-anxiety to be useful. Conscious of hav« 
ing foisted himself into my employ, and that my simple 
and quiet habits render his situation a sinecure, he is at 
his wit's end to devise modes of making himself impor- 
tant to my welfare. I am in a manner the victim of his 
officiousness; I cannot put my foot over the threshold of 
the palace to stroll about the fortress but he is at my 
elbow to explain everything I see, and if I venture to 
ramble among the surrounding hills he insists upon at- 
tending me as a guard,, though I vehemently suspect he 
would be more apt to trust to the length of his legs than 
the strength of his arms in case of attack. After all, 
however, the poor fellow is at times an amusing compan- 
ion; he is simple-minded and of infinite good humor, 
with the loquacity and gossip of a village barber, and 
knows all the small talk of the place and its environs; 
but what he chiefly values himself on is his stock of local 
information, having the most marvelous stories to relate 
of every tower and vault and gateway of the fortress, in 
all of which he places the most implicit faith. 

Most of these he has derived, according to his own 
account, from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, 
who lived to the age of nearly a hundred years, during 
which he made but two migrations beyond the precincts 
of the fortress. His shop, for the greater part of a cen- 
tury, was the resort of a knot of venerable gossips, where 
they would pass half the night talking about old times 
and the wonderful events and hidden secrets of the place. 
The whole living, moving, thinking and acting of this 
little historical tailor had thus been bounded by the 
walls of the Alharabra; within them he had been born, 
within them he lived, breathed and had his being, within 
them he died and was buried. Fortunately for posterity 
his traditionary lore died not with him. The authen- 
tic Mateo, when an urchin, used to be an attentive lis- 
tener to the narratives of his grandfather and of the 
gossip group assembled round the shop board, and is 
thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge concern- 
ing the Alhambra not to be found in the books, and well 
worthy the attention of every curious traveler. 

Such are the personages that contribute to my domes- 
tic comforts in the Alhambra, and I question whether 
any of the potentates, Moslem or Christian, who have 



34 THE ALEAMBBA. 

preceded me in the palace have been waited upon with 
greater fidelity or enjoyed a serener sway. 

When I rise in the morning, Pepe, the stuttering lad 
from the gardens, brings me a tribute of fresh-culled 
flowers, which is afterward arranged in vases by the 
skillful hand of Dolores, who takes no small pride in the 
decorations of my chamber. My meals are made where- 
ever caprice dictates, sometimes in one of the Moorish 
halls, sometimes under the arcades of the Court of 
Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains; and when I 
walk out I am conducted by the assiduous Mateo to the 
most romantic retreats of the mountains and delicious 
haunts of the adjacent valleys, not one of which but is 
the scene of some wonderful tale. 

Though fond of passing the greater part of my day 
alone, yet I occasionally repair in the evenings to the lit- 
tle domestic circle of Do^a Antonia. This is generally 
held in an old Moorish chamber that serves for kitchen 
as well as hall, a rude fireplace having been made in one 
corner, the smoke from which has discolored the walls 
and almost obliterated the ancient arabesques. A win- 
dow with a balcony overhanging the balcony of the 
Darro lets in the cool evening breeze, and here I take 
my frugal supper of fruit and milk, and mingle with the 
conversation of the family. There is a natural talent, or 
mother wit, as it is called, about the Spaniards, which 
renders them intellectual and agreeable companions, 
whatever may be their condition in life or however im- 
perfect may have been their education; add to this, they 
are never vulgar; nature has endowed them with an in- 
herent dignity of spirit. The good Tia Antonia is a 
woman of strong and intelligent, though uncultivated, 
mind, and the bright-eyed Dolores, though she has rea^ 
but three or four books in the whole course of her life 
has an engaging mixture of naivete and good sense, ana 
often surprises me by the pungency of her artless sallies. 
Sometimes the nephew entertains us by reading some 
old comedy of Calderon or Lope de Vega, to which he is 
evidently prompted by a desire to improve as well as 
amuse his cousin Dolores, though to his great mortifica- 
tion the little damsel generally falls asleep before the 
first act is completed. Sometimes Tia Antonia has a 
little bevy of humble |riends and dependants^ the in- 



THE TRUANT. 35 

habitants of the adjacent hamlet, or the wives of the 
invalid soldiers. These look up to her with great deference 
as the custodian of the palace, and pay their court to her 
by bringing the news of the place, or the rumors that 
may have straggled up from Granada. In listening to 
the evening gossipings I have picked up many curious 
facts illustrative of the manners of the people and the 
peculiarities of the neighborhood. 

These are simple details of simple pleasures; it is the 
nature of the place alone that gives them interest and 
importance. 1 tread haunted ground and am surrounded 
by romantic associations. From earliest boyhood, when, 
on the banks of the Hudson, I first pored over the pages 
of an old Spanish story about the wars of Granada, that 
city has ever been a subject of my waking dreams, and 
often have I trod in fancy the romantic halls of the Al- 
hambra. Behold for once a daydream realized; yet I 
can scarcely credit my senses or believe that I do indeed 
inhabit the palace of Boabdil and look down from its 
balconies upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through 
the Oriental chambers and hear the murmuring of foun- 
tains and the song of the nightingale: as I inhale the 
odor of the rose and feel the influence of the balmy 
climate, I am almost tempted to fancy myself in the 
paradise of Mohammed, and that the plump little Dolores 
IS one of the bright-eyed houris, destined to administer 
to the happiness of true believers. 



THE TEUANT. 

Since writing the foregoing pages we have had a 
dcene of petty tribulation in the Alhambra which has 
thrown a cloud over the sunny countenance of Dolores. 
This little damsel has a female passion for pets of all 
kinds, from the superabundant kindness of her disposi- 
tion. One of the ruined courts of the Alhambra is 
thronged with her favorites. A stately peacock and his 
hen seem to hold regal sway here, over pompous turkeys, 
querulous guinea fowls, and a rabble rout of common 
coqks and hens. The great delight of Dolores, however, 
has for some time past been centered in a youthful pair of 



S6 THE ALEAMBBA. 

pigeons, who have lately entered into the holy state ol 
wedlock, and who have even supplanted a tortoise-shelj 
cat and kitten in her affections. 

As a tenement for them to commence housekeeping 
she had fitted up a small chamber adjacent to th€ 
kitchen, the window of which looked into one of the quiet 
Moorish courts. Here they lived in happy ignorance ol 
any world beyond the court and its sunny roofs. In vair 
they aspired to soar above the battlements or to mount 
to the summit of the towers. Their virtuous union waa 
at length crowned by two spotless and milk-white eggs^ 
to the great joy of their cherishing little mistress. Noth-j 
ing could be more praiseworthy than the conduct of the 
young married folks on this interesting occasion. Thej 
took turns to sit upon the nest until the eggs were 
hatched, and while their callow progeny required warmtl 
and shelter. While one thus stayed at home, the other 
foraged abroad for food and brought home abundant 
supplies. 

This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met with 
a reverse. Early this morning, as Dolores was feeding 
the male pigeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at 
the great world. Opening a window, therefore, which 
looks down upon the valley of the Darro, she launched 
him at once beyond the walls of the Alhambra. For the 
first time in his life the astonished bird had to try the 
full vigor of his wings. He swept down into the valley, 
and then rising upward with a surge, soared almost to 
the clouds. Never before had he risen to such a height 
or experienced such delight in flying, and like a young 
spendthrift, just come to his estate, he seemed giddy 
with excess of liberty, and with the boundless field of 
action suddenly opened to him. For the whole day he 
has been circling about in capricious flights, from tower to 
tower and from tree to tree. Every attempt has been 
made in vain to lure him bax^k, by scattering grain upon 
the roofs; he seems to have lost all thought of home, of 
his tender helpmate and his callow young. To add to 
the anxiety of Dolores, he has been joined by two palomas 
ladrones, or robber pigeons, whose instinct it is to en- 
tice wandering pigeons to their own dove-cotes. The 
fugitive, like many other thoughtless youths on their 
first launching upon the world^ seems quite fascinated 



THE TRUANT, 85 

with these knowings but graceless, companions, ^bo 
have undertaken to show him life and introduce him to 
;gociety. He has been soaring with them over all the 
roofs and steeples of Granada. A thunder shower has 
passed over the city, but he has not sought his home; 
night has closed in, and still he comes not. To deepen 
the pathos of the affair, the female pigeon, after remain- 
ing several hours on the nest without being relieved, at 
length went forth to seek her recreant mate, but stayed 
away so long that the young ones perished for want ol 
the warmth and shelter of the parent bosom. 

At a late hour in the evening word was brought to 
Dolores that the truant bird had been seen upon th& 
towers of the Generaliffe. Now it so happens that thfe 
Administrador of that ancient palace has likewise a dove- 
cote, among the inmates of which are said to be two oi 
three of these inveigling birds, the terror of all neigh- 
boring pigeon fanciers. Dolores immediately concluded 
that the two feathered sharpers who had been seen with 
her fugitive were these bloods of the Generaliffe. A 
council of war was forthwith held in the chamber of Tia 
Antonia. The Generaliffe is a distinct jurisdiction from 
the Alhambra, and of course some punctilio, if not 
jealousy, exists between their custodians. It was deter^ 
mined, therefore, to send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the 
gardens, as ambassador to the Administrador, requesting 
that if such fugitive should be found in his dominions 
he might be given up as a subject of the Alhambra. 
Pepe departed, accordingly, on his diplomatic expedi- 
tion, through the moonlit groves and avenues, but re- 
turned in an hour with the afflicting intelligence that no 
such bird was to be found in the dove-cote of the Gen« 
eraliffe. The Administrador, however, pledged his sov 
ereign word that if such vagrant should appear there, 
even at midnight, he should instantly be arrested and 
sent back prisoner to his little black-eyed mistress. 

Thus stands this melancholy affair, which has occasioned 
much distress throughout the palace, and has sent the 
inconsolable Dolores to a sleepless pillow. 

^^Sorrow endureth for a night,'^ says the proverb, ^*bul 
joy ariseth in the morning." The first object that met 
my eyes on leaving my room this morning was Dolores 
with the truant pigeon in her hand, and her eyes spar* 



J8 THE ALHAMBUA. 

kling with joy. He had appeared at an early hour on the 
battlements, hovering shyly about from roof to roof, but 
at length entered the window and surrendered himself, 
prisoner. He gained little credit, however, by his re- 
turn, for the ravenous manner in which he devoured the 
food set before him showed that, like the prodigal son, 
he had been driven home by sheer famine. Dolores up- 
braided him for his faithless conduct, calling him all 
manner of vagrant names, though woman-like, she fon- 
dled him at the same time to her bosom and covered him 
with kisses. I observed, however, that she had taken 
care to clip his wings to prevent all future soarings; a 
precaution which I mention for the benefit of all those 
who have truant wives or wandering husbands. More 
than one valuable moral might be drawn from the story 
of Dolores and her pigeon. 



THE AUTHOE'S CHAMBER. 

On taking up my abode in the Alhambra, one end of a 
suit of empty chambers of modern architecture, in- 
tended for the residence of the governor, was fitted up 
for my reception. It was in front of the palace, looking 
forth upon the esplanade. The further end communi- 
cated with a cluster of little chambers, partly Moorish, 
partly modern, inhabited by Tia Antonia and her family. 
These, terminated in a large room which serves the good 
old dame for parlor, kitchen, and hall of audience. It 
had boasted of some splendor in the time of the Moors, 
but a fireplace had been built in one corner, the smoke 
from which had discolored the walls, nearly obliterated 
the ornaments, and spread a somber tint over the whole. 
From these gloomy apartments a narrow blind corridor 
and a dark winding staircase led down an angle of the 
tower of Comares; groping down which, and opening a 
small door at the bottom, you are suddenly dazzled by 
emerging into the brilliant antechamber of the hall of 
Ambassadors, with the fountain of the court of the 
Alberca sparkling before you. 

I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern and 
frontier apartment of the palace, and longed to ensconce 
myself in the verv heart of the building. 



THE A UTHOR 'S CHAMBER, 39 

As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls 
I found, in a remote gallery, a door which I had not be- 
fore noticed, communicating apparently with an exten- 
sive apartment, locked up from the public. Here then 
was a mystery. Here was the haunted wing of the castle. 
I procured the key, however, without difficulty. The 
door opened to a range of vacant chambers of European 
architecture; though built over a Moorish arcade, along 
the little garden of Lindaraxa. There were two lofty 
l-ooms, the ceilings of which were of deep panel-work of 
cedar, richly and skillfully carved with fruits and flowers, 
intermingled with grotesque masks or faces, but broken 
in many places. The walls had evidently in ancient 
times, been hung with damask, but were now naked, and 
scrawled over with the insignificant names of aspiring 
travelers; the windows, which were dismantled and open 
to wind and weather, looked into the garden of Lin- 
daraxa, and the orange and citron trees flung their 
branches into the chambers. Beyond these rooms were 
two saloons, less lofty, looking also into the garden. In 
the compartments of the paneled ceiling were baskets 
of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted by no mean 
hand, and in tolerable preservation. The walls had also 
been painted in fresco in the Italian style, but the paint- 
ings were nearly obliterated. The windows were in the 
aame shattered state as in the other chambers. 

This fanciful suit of rooms terminated in an open 
gallery with balustrades, which ran at right angles along 
another side of the garden. The whole apartment had a 
delicacy and elegance in its decorations, and there was 
something so choice and sequestered in its situation, 
along this retired little garden, that awakened an inter- 
est in its history. I found on inquiry that it was an 
apartment fitted up by Italian artists in the early part 
of the last century, at the time when Philip V. and the 
beautiful Elizabetta of Parma were expected at the Al- 
hambra; and was destined for the queen and the ladies 
of her train. One of the loftiest chambers had been her 
sleeping-room, and a narrow staircase leading from it, 
tht)ugh now walled up, opened to the delightful belve- 
dere, originally a mirador of the Moorish sultanas, but 
fitted up as a boudoir for the fair Elizabetta, and which 
itill retains the name of the Tocador, or toilette of th« 



40 THE ALEAMBEA. 

queen. The sleeping-room I have mentioned com- 
manded from one window a prospect of the GeneraliflEe 
and its embowered terraces; under another window 
played the alabaster fountain of the garden of Lindaraxa. 
That garden carried my thoughts still further back, to 
the period of another reign of beauty — to the days of the 
Moorish sultanas. ^^How beauteous is this garden!" 
says an Arabic inscription, '^where the flowers of the 
earth vie with the stars of heaven! what can compare 
with the vase of yon alabaster fountain filled with crystal 
water? Nothing but the moon in her fullness, shining in 
the midst of an unclouded sky!" 

Centuries had elapsed, yet how much of this scene of 
apparently fragile beauty remained! The garden of 
Lindaraxa was still adorned with flowers; the fountain 
still presented its crystal mirror: it is true, the alabaster 
had lost its whiteness, and the basin beneath, overrun 
with weeds, had become the nestling place of the lizard; 
but there was something in the very decay that enhanced 
the interest of the scene, speaking, as it did, of that 
mutability which is the irrevocable lot of man and^all his 
works. The desolation, too, of these chambers*, once 
the abode of the proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a 
more touching charm for me than if I had beheld them 
in their pristine splendor, glittering with the pageantry 
of a court — I determined at once to take up my quarters 
in this apartment. 

My determination excited great surprise in the family, 
who could not imagine any rational inducement for the 
choice of so solitary, remote and forlorn an apartment. 
The good Tia Antonia considered it highly dangerous. 
The neighborhood, she said, was infested by vagrants; 
the caverns of the adjacent hills swarmed with gypsies; 
the palace was ruinous and easy to be entered in many 
parts; and the rumor of a stranger quartered alone in 
one of the ruined apartments, out of the hearing of the 
rest of the inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome visitors 
in the night, especially as foreigners are always supposed 
to be well stocked with money. Dolores represented the 
frightful loneliness of the place; nothing but bats and 
owls flitting about; then there were a fox and a wild cat 
that kept about the vaults and roamed about at night. 

I was not to be diverted from my humor^ so calling in 



THE A UTBOR *8 CHAMBER. 41 

the assistance of a carpenter and the ever-officious Mateo 
Ximenes, the doors and windows were soon placed in a 
state of tolerable security. 

With all these precautions, I must confess the first 
night I passed in these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. 
I was escorted by the whole family to my chamber, and 
their taking leave of me, and retiring along the waste 
antechamber and echoing galleries reminded me of those 
hobgoblin stories, where the hero is left to accomplish 
the adventure of a haunted house. 

Soon the thoughts of the fair Elizabetta and the 
beauties of her court, who had once graced these cham- 
bers, now by a perversion of fancy added to the gloom. 
Here was the scene of their transient gayety and loveli- 
ness; here were the very traces of their elegance and en- 
joyment; but what and where were they? — Dust and ashes! 
tenants of the tomb! phantoms of the memory! 

A vague and indescribable awe was creeping over me. 
I would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of rob- 
bers, awakened by the evening's conversation, but I felt 
that it was something more unusual and absurd. In a 
word, the long-buried impressions of the nursery were 
reviving and asserting their power over my imagination. 
Everything began to be affected by the workings of my 
mind. The whispering of the wind among the citron- 
trees beneath my window had something sinister. I cast 
my eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa; the groves pre- 
sented a gulf of shadows; the thickets had indistinct and 
ghastly shapes. I was glad to close the window; but my 
chamber itself became infected. A bat had found its 
way in, and flitted about my head and athwart my soli- 
tary lamp; the grotesque faces carved in the cedar ceiling 
seemed to mope and mow at me. 

Bousing myself and half-smiling at this temporary 
weakness, I resolved to brave it, and, taking lamp in 
hand, sallied forth to make a tour of the ancient palace. 
Notwithstanding every mental exertion, the task was a 
severe one. The rays of my lamp extended to but a 
limited distance around me; I walked as it were in a 
mere halo of light, and all beyond was thick darkness. 
The vaulted corridors were as caverns; the vaults of the 
halls were lost in gloom; what unseen foe might not be 
lurking before or bohiud mej my own shadow playing 



42 THE ALHAMBRA. 

about the walls and the echoes of my own footsteps dis« 
turbed me. 

In this excited state^ as I was traversing the great hall of 
Ambassadors, there were added real sounds to these con- 
jectural fancies. Low moans and indistinct ejaculations 
seemed to rise as it were from beneath my feet; I paused 
and listened. They then appeared to resound from 
without the tower. Sometimes they resembled the bowl- 
ings of an animal, at others they were stifled shrieks, 
mingled with articulate ravings. The thrilling effect of 
these sounds in that still hour and singular place de- 
stroyed all inclination to continue my lonely perambula- 
tion. I returned to my chamber with more alacity than 
I had sallied forth, and drew my breath more freely when 
once more within its walls and the door bolted behind 
me. 

AVhen I woke in the morning, with the sun shining in 
at my window and lighting up every part of the building 
with its cheerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely 
recall the shadows and fancies conjured up by the gloom 
of the preceding night, or believe that the scenes around 
me, so naked and apparent, could have been clothed with 
such imaginary horrors. 

Still the dismal bowlings and ejaculations I had heard 
were not ideal; but they were soon accounted for by my 
handmaid Dolores; being the ravings of a poor maniac, 
a brother of her aunt, who was subject to violent parox 
ysms, during which he was confined in a vaulted room 
beneath the hall of Ambassadors. 



THE ALHAMBEA BY MOONLIGHT. 

I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first 
taking possession of it; a few evenings have produced a 
thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The 
moon, which then WciS invisible, has gradually gained 
upon the nights, and now rolls in full splendor above the 
towers, pouring a flood of tempered light into every court 
and hall. The garden beneath my window is gently 
lighted up; the orange and citron trees are tipped with 
silver; the fountain sparkles in the moonbeams, and 
even the blush of the rose is faintly visible. 



THE ALHAMBRA B Y MOONLIQRT. 40 

I have sat for hours at m}^ window inhaling the sweet- 
ness of the garden and musing on the checkered fea 
tures of those whose history is dimly shadowed out in the 
elegant memorials around. Sometimes I have issued 
forth at midnight when everything was quiet, and have 
wandered over the whole building. Who can do justice 
to a moonlight night in such a climate and in such a 
place! The temperature of an Andalusian midnight, in 
sum.mer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a 
purer atmosphere; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy 
of spirits, an elasticity of frame that render mere exist- 
ence enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the 
Alhambra has something like enchantment. Every rent 
and chasm of time, every moldering tint and weather 
stain disappears; the marble resumes its original white- 
ness; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams; 
the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance, until 
the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted palace of 
an Arabian tale. 

At such time I have ascended to the little pavilion, 
called the Queen's Toilette, to enjoy its varied and ex- 
tensive prospect. To the right the snowy summits ot 
the Sierra Nevada would gleam like silver clouds against 
the (barker firmament, and all the outlines of the moun- 
tain ^ould be softened, yet delicately defined. My de- 
light, however, would be to lean over the parapet of the 
tocador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread out like a 
map below me, all buried in deep repose, and its white 
palaces and convents sleeping as it were in the moonshine. 

Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets 
from some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda; at 
other times I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar 
and the notes of a single voice rising from some solitary 
street, and have pictured tomyself some youthful cavalier 
serenading his lady^s window — a gallant custom of former 
days, but now sadly on the decline except in the remote 
towns and villages of Spain. 

Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an 
hour loitering about the courts and balconies of the cas- 
tle, enjoying that mixture of reverie and sensation which 
steal away existence in a southern climate — and it has 
been almost morning before I have retired to my bed 
and been lulled to sleep by thi^ falling waters of the fouu- 



44 THE A LHA MB HA . 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

I HvVVE often observed that the more prondly a man- 
sion has been tenanted in the day of its prosperity the 
humbl'^r are its inhabitants in the day of its decline, and 
that the palace of the king commonly ends in being the 
nestling place of the beggar. 

The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transition: 
whenever a tower falls to decay it is seized upon by 
some tatterdemalion family, who become joint tenants 
with the bats, and owls of its gilded halls, and hang their 
rags, those standards of poverty, out of its windows and 
loopholes. 

I have amused myself with remarking some of the 
motley characters that have thus usurped the ancient 
abode of royalty, and who seem as if placed here to give 
a farcical termination to the drama of human pride. 
One of these even bears the mockery of a royal title. It 
is a little old woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but 
who goes by the appellation of la Eeyna Cuquina, or the 
cockle queen. She is small enough to be a fairy, and a 
fairy she may be for aught I can find out, for no one 
seems to know her origin. Her habitation is a kind of 
closet under the outer staircase of the palace, and she 
sits in the cool stone corridor plying her needle and sing- 
ing from morning till night, with a ready joke for every 
one that passes, for though one of the poorest she is one 
of the merriest little women breathing. Her great merit 
is a gift for story-telling; having, I verily believe, as 
many stories at her command as the inexhaustible 
Scheherezade of the thousand and one nights. Some of 
these I have heard her relate in the evening tertulias of 
Dofla Antonia, at which she is occasionally an humble 
attendant. 

That there must be some fairy gift about this myste- 
rious little old woman, would appear from her extraordi- 
nary luck, since, notwithstanding her being very little, 
very ugly, and very poor, she has had, according to her 
own account, five husbands and a half; reckoning as a 
half, one, a young dragoon, who died during courtship. 

A rival personage to this little fairy queen is a portly 
old fellow with a bottle nose, who goes about in a rusty 



INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA, 45 

g:arb, with a cocked hat of oil skin and a red cockade. 
He is one of the legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and 
has lived here all his life, filling various offices; such as 
deputy alguazil, sexton of the parochial church, and 
marker of a fives court established at the foot of one of 
the towers. He is as poor as a rat, but as proud as he 
is ragged, boasting of his descent from the illustrious 
house of Aguilar, from which sprang Gonsalvo of Cor- 
dova, the Grand Captain. Nay, he actually bears the 
name of Alonzo de Aguilar, so renowned in the history of 
the conquest, though the graceless wags of the fortress 
have given him the title of el Padre Santo, or the Holy 
Father, the usual appellation of the pope, which I had 
thought too sacred in the eyes of true Catholics to be 
thus ludicrously applied. It is a whimsical caprice of 
fortune to present in the grotesque person of this 
tatterdemalion a namesake and descendant of the proud 
Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian chivalry, 
leading an almost mendicant existence about this once 
haughty fortress, which his ancestor aided to reduce; yet 
such might have been the lot of the descendants of 
Agamemnon and Achilles, had they lingered about the 
ruins of Troy. 

Of this motley community I find the family of my gos- 
siping squire Mateo Ximenes to form, from their num- 
bers at least, a very important part. His boast of being a 
son of the Alhambra is not unfounded. This family has 
inhabited the fortress ever since the time of the con- 
quest, handing down a hereditary poverty from father to 
son, not one of them having ever been known to be 
worfch a marevedi. His father, by trade a ribbon weaver, 
and who succeded the historical tailor as the head of the 
family, is now near seventy years of age, and lives in a 
hovel of reeds and plaster, built by his own hands, just 
above the iron gate. The furniture consists of a crazy 
bed, a table, and two or three chairs; a wooden chest, 
containing his clothes and the archives of his family; 
that is to say, a few papers concerning old law-suits 
which he cannot read; but the pride of his heart is a 
blazon of the arms of the family, brilliantly colored and 
suspended in a frame against the wall, clearly demon- 
strating by its quarterings the various noble houses with 
which this poverty-stricken brood claim attiuity. 



46 THE ALHAMBRA 

As to Mateo himself he has done his utmost to per- 
petuate his line; having a wife and a numerous progeny 
who inhabit an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. 
How they manage to subsist. He only who sees into all 
mysteries can tell — the subsistence of a Spanish family of 
the kind is always a riddle to me; yet they do subsist, 
and, what is more, appear to enjoy their existence. The 
wife takes her holiday stroll in the Paseo of Granada 
with a child in her arms, and half a dozen at her heels, 
and the eldest daughter, now verging into womanhood, 
dresses her hair with flowers, and dances gayly to the 
castanets. 

There are two classes of people to whom life seems one 
long holiday, the very rich and the very poor; one be- 
cause they need do nothing, the other because they have 
nothing to do; but there are none who understand the 
art of doing nothing and living upon nothing better than 
the poor classes of Spain. Climate does one half and 
temperament the rest. Give a Spaniard the shade in 
summer, and the sun in winter, a little bread, garlic, oil 
and garbanzos, an old brown cloak and a guitar, and let 
the world roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty, with 
him it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a gran- 
dioso style, like his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo even 
when in rags. 

The ''Sons of the Alhambra'^ are an eminent illustra- 
tion of this practical philosophy. As the Moors imagined 
that the celestial paradise hung over this favored spot, 
so I am inclined at times to fancy that a gleam of the 
golden age still lingers about this ragged community. 
They possess nothing, they do nothing, they care for 
nothing. Yet, though apparently idle all the week, 
they are as observant of all holydays and saints^ days as 
the most laborious artisan. They attend all fetes and 
dancings in Granada and its vicinity, light bonfires on 
the hills on St. John's Eve, and have lately danced away 
the moonlight nights, on the harvest home of a small 
field of wheat within the precincts of the fortress. 

Before concluding these remarks I must mention one 
of the amusements of the place which has particularly 
struck me. I had repeatedly observed a long, lean fellow 
perched on the top of one of the towers maneuvering two 
or three fishing rods, as though he was angling for thd 



THE BAlGOWr, 



4? 



stars. I was for some time perplexed by the evolutioDs 
of this aerial fisherman, and my perplexity increased on 
observing others employed in fike manner, on different 
parts of the battlements and bastions: it was not until I 
consulted Mateo Ximenes that I solved the mystery. 

It seems that the pure and airy situation of this for- 
tress has rendered it, like the castle of Macbeth, a pro- 
lific breeding-place for swallows and martlets, who sport 
about its towers in myriads, with the holiday glee of 
urchins just let loose from school. To entrap these 
birds in their giddy circlings, with hooks baited with 
flies, is one of the favorite amusements of the ragged 
*'Sons of the Alhambra,'' who, with the good-for-nothing 
ingenuity of arrant idlers, have thus invented the art of 
angling in the sky. 



THE BALCONY. 

In the hall of Ambassadors, at the central window, 
there is a balcony of which I have already made mention. 
It projects like a cage from the face of the tower, high 
in midair, above the tops of the trees that grow on the 
steep hillside. It answers me as a kind of observatory, 
where I often take my seat to consider, not merely th? 
heavens above, but the ''earth beneath.'^ Beside the 
magnificent prospect which it commands, of mountain, 
valley, and Vega, there is a busy little scene of human 
life laid open to inpection immediately below. At the 
foot of the hill is an alameda or public walk, which, 
though not so fashionable as the more modern and 
splendid paseo of the Xenil, still boasts a varied and 
picturesque concourse, especially on holidays and Sun- 
days. Hither resort the small gentry of the suburbs, 
together with priests and friars who walk for appetite 
and digestion; majos and majas, the beaux and belles of 
the lower classes in their Andalusian dresses; swagging 
contrabandistas, and sometimes half-muftled and myste- 
rious loungers of the higher ranks, on some silent assigna- 
tion. 

It is a moving picture of Spanish life which I delight 
to study; and as the naturah'st has his microscope to aii- 



f8 THE ALBAMBRA. 

sist him in tis curious investigations, so I have a small 
pocket telescope which hrings the countenances of the 
motley groups so close as almost at tim-cs to make me 
think I can divine their conversation by the play and ex^ 
pression of their features. I am thus, in a manner, an 
invisible observer, and without quitting my solitude, can 
throw myself in an instant into the midst of society — a 
rare advantage to one of somewhat shy and quiet habits. 

Then there is a considerable suburb lying below the 
Alhambra, filling the narrow gorge of the valley, and ex- 
tending up the opposite hill of the Albaycin. Many of 
the houses are built in the Moorish style, round patios or 
courts cooled by fountains and open to the sky; and as 
the inhabitants pass much of their time in these courts 
and on the terraced roofs during the summer season, it 
follows that many a glance at their domestic life may be 
obtained by an aerial spectator like myself, who can look 
down on them from the clouds. 

I enjoy, in some degree, the advantages of the student 
in the famous old Spanish story, who beheld all Madrid 
unroofed for his inspection; and my gossiping squire, 
Mateo Ximenes, officiates occasionally as my Asmodeus, 
to give me anecdotes of the different mansions and their 
inhabitants. 

I prefer, however, to form conjectural histories for 
myself; and thus can sit up aloft for hours, weaving from 
casual incidents and indications that jjass under my eye 
the whole tissue of schemes, intrigues and occupations, 
carrying on by certain of the busy mortals below us. 
There is scarce a pretty face or striking figure that I 
daily see, about which I have not thus gradually framed a 
dramatic story; though some of my characters will occa- 
sionally act in direct opposition to the part assigned them, 
and disconcert my whole drama. 

A few days since, as I was reconnoitering with my glass 
the streets of the Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a 
novice about to take the veil; and remarked various cir- 
cumstances that excited the strongest sympathy in the 
fate of the youthful being thus about to be consigned to 
a living tomb. I ascertained, to my satisfaction, that she 
was beautiful; and, by the paleness of her cheek, that 
she was a victim rather than a votary. She was arrayed 
in bridal garments and decked with a chaplet of white 



THE BALCOFY, 49 

flowers; but her heart evidently revolted at this mockery 
of a spiritual union, and yearned after its earthly loves. 
A tall stern-looking man walked near her in the proces- 
sion; it was evidently the tyrannical father, who, from 
some bigoted or sordid motive, had compelled this sacri- 
fice. Amid the crowd was a dark, handsome youth, in 
Adalusian garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of 
agony. It was doubtless the secret lover from whom she 
was forever to be separated. My indignation rose as I 
noted the malignant exultation painted in the counte- 
nances of the attendant monks and friars. The proces- 
sion arrived at the chapel of the convent; the sun 
gleamed for the last time upon the chaplet of the poor 
novice as she crossed the fatal threshold and disappeared 
from sight. The throng poured in with cowl and cross 
and minstrelsy. The lover paused for a moment at the 
door; I could understand the tumult of his feelings, but 
he mastered them and entered. There was a long inter- 
val — I pictured to myself the scene passing within. The 
poor novice despoiled of her transient finery — clothed in 
the conventual garb; the bridal chaplet taken from her 
brow; her beautiful head shorn of its long silken tresses 
• — I heard her murmur the irrevocable vow — I saw her 
extended on her bier; the death pall spread over; the 
funeral service performed that proclaimed her dead to 
the world; her sighs were drowned in the wailing anthem 
of the nuns and the sepulchral tones of the organ — the 
father looked unmoved, without a tear — the lover — no — 
my fancy refused to portray the anguish of the lover — 
there the picture remained a blank. The ceremony was 
over: the crowd again issued forth to behold the day and 
mingle in the Joyous stir of life— but the victim with her 
bridal chaplet was no longer there — the door of the con- 
vent closed that secured her from the world forever. I 
saw the father and the lover issue forth— they were in 
earnest conversation — the young man was violent in his 
gestures, when the wall of a house intervened and shut 
them from my sight. 

That evening I noticed a solitary light twinkling from 
a remote lattice of the convent. There, said I, the un- 
happy novice sit^ weeping in her cell, while her lover 
paces the street below in unavailing anguish. 

Th9 officious Matoo interrupted my meditations and 



50 THE ALHAMBBA. 

destroyed, in an instant, the cobweb tissue of my fancy. 
With his usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the 
scene that had interested me. The heroine of my 
romance was neither young nor handsome — she had no 
lover— she had entered the convent of her own free will, 
as a respectable asylum, and was one of the cheerfulest 
residents within its walls! 

I felt at first half-vexed with the nun for being thus 
happy in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules of 
romance; but diverted my spleen by watching, for a day 
or two, the pretty coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette^ 
who, from the covert of a balcony shrouded with flower- 
ing shrubs and a silken awning, was carrying on a mys- 
terious correspondence with a handsome dark, well- 
whiskered cavalier in the street beneath her window. 
Sometimes I saw him at an early hour, stealing forth, 
wrapped to the eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered 
at the corner, in various disguises, apparently waiting for 
a private signal to slip into the bower. Then there was 
a tinkling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted 
from place to place in the balcony. I imagined another 
romantic intrigue like that of Almaviva, but was again 
disconcerted in all my suppositions by being informed 
that the supposed lover was the husband of the lady, and 
a noted contrabandista, and that all his mysterious signs 
and movements had doubtless some smuggling scheme in 
view. 

Scarce had the gray dawn streaked the sky and the 
earliest cock crowed from the cottages of the hillside, 
when the suburbs gave sign of reviving animation; for 
the fresh hours of dawning are precious in the summer 
season in a sultry climate. All are anxious to get the 
start of the sun in the business of the day. The mule- 
teer drives forth his loaded train for the journey; the 
traveler slings his carbine behind his saddle and mounl^^ 
his steed at the gate of the hostel. The brown peasant 
urges his loitering donkeys, laden with panniers of sunny 
fruit and fresh dewy vegetables; for already the thrifty 
housewives are hastening to the market. 

The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, topping 
the transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells 
resound melodiously through the pure bright air, an- 
nouncing the hour of devotion. The muleteer halts his 



THE BALCONY. 51 

burdened animals before the chapel, thrusts his staff 
through his belt behind, and enters with hat in hand, 
smoothing his coal-black hair, to hear a mass and put up 
j4 prayer for a prosperous wayfaring across the Sierra. 

And now steals forth with fairy foot the gentle sefiora, 
in trim busquina; with restless fan in hand and dark eye 
flashing from beneath her gracefully folded mantilla. 
She seeks some well frequented church to offer up her 
orisons; but the nicely adjusted dress, the dainty shoe 
and cobweb stocking, the raven tresses scrupulously 
braided, the fresh-plucked rose that gleams among them 
like a gem, show that earth divides with heaven the em- 
pire of her thoughts. 

As the morning advances the din of labor augments 
on every side; the streets are thronged with man, and 
steed, and beast of burden; the universal movement pro- 
duces a hum and murmur like the surges of the ocean. 
As the sun ascends to his meridian the hum and bustle 
gradually decline; at the height of noon there is a pause; 
the panting city sinks into lassitude, and for several 
hours there is a general repose. The windows are closed; 
the curtains drawn; the inhabitants retired into the cool- 
est recesses of their mansions. The full-fed monk snores 
in his dormitory. The brawny porter lies stretched on 
the pavement beside his burden. The peasant and the 
laborer sleep beneath the trees of the Alameda, lulled by 
the sultry chirping of the locust. The streets are de- 
serted except by the water carrier, who refreshes the ear 
by proclaiming the merits of his sparkling beverage — 
^'Colder than mountain snow." 

As the sun declines there is again a gradual reviving/ 
and when the vesper bell rings out his sinking knell all 
nature seems to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has 
fallen. Now begins the bustle of enjoyment. Tho 
citizens pour forth to breathe the evening air, and revel 
away the brief twilight in the walks and gardens of the 
Darro and the Xenil. 

As the night closes the motley scene assumes new fea- 
tures. Light after light gradually twinkles forth — here a 
taper from a balconied window; there a votive lamp be- 
fore the image of a saint. Thus by degrees the city 
emerges from the pervading gloom, and sparkles witli 
scattered lights like the starrv lirmament. N'ow break 



52 THE ALBAMBRA 

forth from court, and garden, and street, and lane, the 
tinkling of innumerable guitars and the clicking of 
castanets, blending at this lofty height in a faint and 
general concert. '^Enjoy the moment,^' is the creed of 
the gay and amorous Andalusian, and at no time does 
he practice it more zealously than in the balmy nights of 
summer, wooing his mistress with the dance, the love 
ditty and the passionate serenade. 

I was seated one evening in the balcony enjoying the 
light breeze that catne rustling along the side of the hill 
among the tree-tops, when my humble historiographer, 
Mateo, who was at my elbow, pointed out a spacious 
house in an obscure street of the Albaycin, about which 
he related, as nearly as I can recollect, the following 
anecdote. 



THE ADVENTURE OP THE MASON. 

There was once upon a time a poor mason, or brick- 
layer, in Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holy- 
days, and saint Monday into the bargain, and yet, with 
all his devotion, he grew poorer and poorer, and could 
scarcely earn bread for his numerous family. One night 
he was roused from his first sleep by a knocking at his 
door. He opened it and beheld before him a tall, 
meager, cadaverous-looking priest. ''Hark ye, honest 
friend,'' said the stranger, ''I have observed that you are 
a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you under- 
take a job this very night?" 

''With all my heart, Sefior Padre, on condition that I 
am paid accordingly." 

"That you shall be, but you must suffer yourself to be 
blindfolded." 

To this the mason made no objection; so being hood- 
winked, he was led by the priest through various rough 
lanes and winding passages until they stopped before the 
portal of a house. The priest then applied a key, turned 
a creaking lock and opened what sounded like a ponder- 
ous door. They entered, the door was closed and bolted/ 
and the mason was conducted through an echoing corri 
dor »nd spacious hall, to an interior part of the building. 



THE AD VEWTURM OF THE MASOJf. 53 

Here the bandage was removed from his eyes, and he 
found himself in a patio, or court, dimly lighted by a 
single lamp. 

In the center was a dry basin of an old Moorish. foun- 
tain, under which the priest requested him to form a 
small vault, bricks and mortar being at hand for the 
purpose. He accordingly worked all night, but without 
finishing the job. Just before daybreak the priest put a 
piece of gold into his hand, and having again blindfolded 
him, conducted him back to his dwelling. 

''Are you willing,'' said he, ''to return and complete 
your work?'^ 

''Gladly, Sefior Padre, provided I am as well paid." 

*^Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again." 

He did so, and the vault was completed. "Now," said 
the priest, "you must help me to bring forth the bodies 
that are to be buried in this vault." 

The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words; 
he followed the priest with trembling steps into a retired 
chamber of the mansion, expecting to behold some 
ghastly spectacle of death, but was relieved on perceiv- 
ing three or four portly jars standing in one corner. 
They were evidently full of money, and it was with great 
labor that he and the priest carried them forth and coq- 
signed them to their tomb. The vault was then closed, 
the pavement replaced and all traces of the work 
obliterated. 

The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a 
route different from that by which he had come. After 
they had wandered for a long time through a perplexed 
maze of lanes and alleys, they halted. The priest then 
put two pieces of gold into his hand. "Wait here," 
said he, "until you hear the cathedral bell toll for 
matins. If you presume to uncover your eyes before that 
time evil will befall you." So saying he departed. 

The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by 
weighing the gold pieces in his hand and clinking them 
against each other. The moment the cathedral bell rang 
its matin peal he uncovered his eyes and found himself 
on the banks of the Xenil; from whence he made the 
best of his way home, and reveled with his family for a 
whole fortnight on the profits of his two nights' work.c 
after which he was as poor as ever. 



54 TEE ALEAMBRA. 

He continued to work a little and pray a good deal^ 
and keep holydays and saints^ days from year to yearj 
while his family grew np as gaunt and ragged as a cre^ 
of gypsies. 

As he was seated one morning at the door of his hoyel 
he was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted 
for owning many houses and being a griping landlord. 

The man of money eyed him for a moment from be- 
neath a pair of shagged eyebrows. 

''I am told, friend, that you are very poor.^^ 

^'There is no denying the fact, sefior; it speaks for 
itself.'^ 

"I presume, then, you will be glad of a job, and will 
work cheap. ^^ 

''As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada.'' 

''That's what I want. I have an old house fallen to 
decay, that costs me more money than it is worth to keep 
it in repair, for nobody will live in it; so I must contrive 
to patch it up and keep it together at as small expense as 
possible.'' 

The mason was accordingly conducted to ?. huge de- 
serted house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through 
several empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner 
court, where his eye was caught by an old Moorish 
fountain. 

He paused for a moment. "It seems," said he, "as if 
I had been in this place before; but it is like a dream. 
Pray who occupied this house formerly?" 

"A pest upon him!" cried the landlord. "It was an 
old miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. 
He was said to be immensely rich, and, having no rela- 
tions, it was thought he would leave all his treasure to 
the church. He died suddenly, and the priests and friars 
thronged to take possession of his wealth, but nothing 
could they find but a few ducats in a leathern purse. 
The worst luck has fallen on me; for since his death the 
old fellow continues to occupy my house without paying 
rent, and there's no taking tne law of a dead man. The 
people pretend to hear at night the clinking of gold all - 
night long in the chamber where the old priest slept, as 
if lie were counting over his money, and sometimes a 
groaning and moaning about the court. Whether true 
or false these stories have brought a bad name on my 
house^ and not a tenant will remain in it." 



A EAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 55 

^^Enough/^ said the mason sturdily — ^'let me live in 
your house rent free until some better tenant presents, 
and I will engage to put it in repair and quiet the 
troubled spirits that disturb it. I am a good Christian 
and a poor man, and am not to be daunted by the devil 
himself, even though he come in the shape of a big bag 
of money. '^ 

The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he 
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his 
engagements. By little and little he restored it to its 
former state. The clinking of gold was no longer heard 
at night in the chamber of the defunct priest, but began 
to be heard by day in the pocket of the living mason. 
In a word, he increased rapidly in wealth, to the admira- 
tion of all his neighbors, and became one of the richest 
men in Granada. He gave large sums to the church, by 
way, no doubt, of satisfying his conscience, and never 
revealed the secret of his wealth until on his deathbed, 
to his son and heir. 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 

I FREQUENTLY amusc myself toward the close of the 
day, when the heat has subsided, with taking long ram- 
bles about the neighboring hills and the deep umbrageous 
valleys, accompanied by my historiographer Squire Mateo, 
to whose passion for gossiping I, on such occasions, 
give the most unbounding license; and there is scarce a 
rock or ruin, or broken fountain, or lonely glen, about 
which he has not some marvelous story; or above all, 
some golden legend; for never was poor devil so munifi- 
cent in dispensing hidden treasures. 

A few evenings since we took a long stroll of the kind, 
in which Mateo was more than usually communicativeo 
It was toward sunset that we sallied forth from the great 
Gate of Justice, and ascending an alley of trees, Mateo 
paused under a clump of fig and pomegranate trees at 
the foot of a huge ruined tower, called the Tower of the 
Seven Vaults (de los siete suelos). Here, pointing to a 
low archway at the foundation of the tower, he informed 
me in an undertone, was the lurking place of a mon» 



56 ' THE ALEAMBRA. 

Htrous sprite or hobgoblin called the Belludo, which had 
infested the tower ever since the time of the Moors; 
guarding, it is supposed, the treasures of a Moorish king. 
Sometimes it issues forth in the dead of the night, and 
scours the avenues of the Alhambra and the streets of 
Granada in the shape of a headless horse, pursued by six 
dogs, with terrific yells and bowlings. 

''But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in 
any of your rambles?'* 

''No, sefior; but my grandfather, the tailor, knew 
several persons who had seen it; for it went about much 
more in his time than at present: sometimes in one 
shape, sometimes in another. Everybody in Granada has 
heard of the Belludo, for the old women and nurses 
frighten the children with it when they cry. Some say 
it is the spirit of a cruel Moorish king, who killed his six 
sons and buried them in these vaults, and that they 
hunt him at nights in revenge.** 

Mateo went on to tell many particulars about this re- 
doubtable hobgoblin, which has, in fact, been time out 
of mind a favorite theme of nursery tale and popular 
tradition in Granada, and is mentioned in some of the 
antiquated guide-books. When he had finished we 
passed on, skirting the fruitful orchards of the General- 
iffe, among the trees of which two or three nightingales 
were pouring forth a rich strain of melody. Behind 
these orchards we passed a number of Moorish tanks, 
with a door cut into the rocky bosom of the hill, but 
closed up. These tanks, Mateo informea me, were favor- 
ite bathing-places of himself and his comrades in boy- 
hood, until frightened away by a story of a hideous Moor, 
who used to issue forth from the door in the rock to en° 
trap unwary bathers. 

Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued 
our ramble up a solitary mule-path that wound among 
^the hills, and soon found ourselves amid wild and mel- 
ancholy mountains, destitute of trees, and here and there 
tinted with scanty verdure. Everything within sight 
was severe and sterile, and it was scarcely possible to 
realize the idea that but a short distance behind us was 
the GerjeralifiEe, with its blooming orchards and terraced 
gardens, and that we were in the vicinity of delicious 
t^ranad^j tb^t oitj of groves ^nd fountains, But 8W<^b 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 57 

is the nature of Spain— wild and stern the moment it 
escapes from cultivation, the desert and the garden are 
ever side by side. 

The narrow defile up which we were passing is called, 
according to Mateo, el Barranco de la Tinaja, or the 
ravine of the jar. 

"And why so, Mateo?'' inquired I. 

"Because, selior, a jar full of Moorish gold was found 
here in old times/' The brain of poor Mateo is continu- 
ally running upon these golden legends. 

"But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder 
upon a heap of stones in that narrow part of the ravine?'' 

"Oh! that's nothing — a muleteer was murdered there 
some years since." 

"So then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers 
even at the gates of the Alhambra." 

"Not at present, sefior— -that was formerly, when 
there used to be many loose fellows about the fortress; 
but they've all been weeded out. Not but that the 
gypsies, who live in caves in the hillsides just out of the 
fortress, are, many of them, fit for anything; but we 
have had no murder about here for a long time past. 
The man who murdered the muleteer was hanged in the 
fortress." 

Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, 
rugged height to our left, called the Silla del Moro, or 
chair of the Moor; from a tradition that the unfortunate 
Boabdil fled thither during a popular insurrection, and 
remained all day seated on the rocky summit, looking 
mournfully down upon his factious city. 

We at length arrived on the highest part of the prom- 
ontory above Granada, called the Mountain of the Sun. 
The evening was approaching; the setting sun just 
gilded the loftiest heights. Here and there a solitary 
shepherd might be descried driving his flock down the 
declivities to be folded for the night, or a muleteer and 
his lagging animals threading some mountain path, to 
arrive at the city gates before nightfall. 

Presently the deep tones of the cathedral bell came 
swelling up the defiles, proclaiming the hour of Oracion's 
or prayer. The note was responded to from the belfry 
of every church, and from the sweet bells of the convents 
«xnong tho mountains, ThQ shepherd paused ou the 



58 THE ALE A MB R A. 

fold of the hill, the muleteer in the midst of the road; 
each took off his hat, and remained motionless for a time, 
murmuring his evening prayer. There is always some- 
thing solemn and pleasing in this custom, by which at a 
melodious signal every human being throughout the 
land recites, at the same moment, a tribute of thanks to 
God for the mercies of the day. It diffuses a transient 
sanctity over the land, and the sight of the sun sinking 
in all his glory adds not a little to the solemnity of the 
scene. In the present instance the effect was height- 
ened by the wild and lonely nature of the place. We 
were on the naked and broken summit of the haunted 
Mountain of the Sun, where ruined tanks and cistem.% 
and the moldering foundations of extensive buildings, 
spoke of former populousness, but where all was now 
silent and desolate. 

As we were wandering among these traces of old times 
Mateo pointed out to me a circular pit that seemed to 
penetrate deep into the bosom of the mountain. It w^as 
evidently a deep well, dug by the indefatigable Moors to 
obtain their favorite element in its greatest purity. 
Mateo, however, had a different story, and much more to 
his humor. This was, according to tradition, an entrance 
to the subterranean caverns of the mountain, in which 
Boabdil and his court lay bound in magic spell; and from 
whence they sallied forth at night, at allotted times, to 
revisit their ancient abodes. 

The deepening twilight, which in this climate is of 
such short duration, admonished us to leave this haunted 
ground. As we descended the mountain defiles there 
was no longer herdsman or muleteer to be seen, nor any- 
thing to be heard but our own footsteps and the lonely 
chirping of the cricket. The shadows of the valleys 
grew deeper and deeper, until all was dark around us. 
The lofty summit of the Sierra Nevada alone retained a 
lingering gleam of daylight, its snowy peaks glaring 
against tne dark-blue firmament, and seeming close to us. 
from the extreme purity of the atmosphere. 

''How near the Sierra looks this evening!" said Mateo; 
*'it seems as if you could touch it with your hand, and 
yet it is many long leagues off." While he was speaking 
a star appeared over the snowy summit of the mountain, 
the only one yet visible iu the heavens, and so pure, so 



A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 59 

large, so bright and beautiful as to call forth ejaculations 
of delight from honest Mateo, 

^'Qne lucerohermoso!™-que claro ylimpio es! nopueda 
ser luceor mas brillante!'^ 

(What a beautiful star! — how clear and lucid! no star 
could be more brilliant!) 

I have often remarked this sensibility of the common 

f)eople' -f Spain to the charms of natural objects. The 
uster of a star — the beauty or fragrance of a flower — the 
crystal purity of a fountain will inspire them with a 
kind of poetical delight — and then what euphonious 
words their magnificent language affords, with which to 
give utterance to their transports! 

^'But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twin- 
kling along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy 
region, and which might be taken for stars, only that 
they are ruddy and against the dark side of the moun- 
tain ?'' 

^'Those, sefior, are fires made by the men who gather 
snow and ice for the supply of Granada. They go up 
every afternoon with mules and asses, and take turns, 
some to rest and warm themselves by the fires, while 
others fill their panniers with ice. They then set ofl: 
down the mountain, so as to rwach the gates of Granada 
before sunrise. That Sierra Nevada, sefior, ij a lump of 
ice in the middle of Andalusia, to keep it all cool in 
summer/* 

It was now completely dark; we were passing through 
the barranco where stood the cross of the murdered 
muleteer, when I beheld a number of lights moving at 
a distance and apparently advancing up the ravine. On 
nearer approach they proved to be torches borne by a 
train of uncouth figures arrayed in black; it would have 
been a procession dreary enough at any time, but was 
peculiarly so in this wild and solitary place. 

Mateo drew near, and told me in a low voice that it 
was a funeral train bearing a corpse to thp burying 
ground among the hills. 

As the procession passed by the lugubrious light of 
the torches, falling on the rugged features and funeral 
weeds of the attendants, had the most fantastic effect 
but was perfectly ghastly as it revealed the countenance 
of the corpse, which, according to Spar.ish custom, waa 



60 THE ALEAMBRA, 

borne uncovered on an open bier. I remained for some 
time gazing after the dreary train as it wound up the 
dark defile of the mountain. It put me in mind of the 
old story of a procession of demons, bearing the body of 
u sinner up the crater of Stromboli. 

*'Ah^ sefior/^ cried Mateo, "I could tell you a story of 
a procession once seen among these mountains— but then 
you would laugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies 
of my grandfather the tailor/^ 

''By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more 
than a marvelous tale.^^ 

''Well, sefior, it is about one of those very men we 
have been talking of, who gather snow on the Sierra 
Nevada. You must know that a great many years since, 
in my grandfather's time, there was an old fellow, Tio 
Nicolo by name, who had filled the panniers of his mules 
with snow and ice, and was returning down the moun- 
tain. Being very drowsy, he mounted upon the mule, 
and soon falling asleep, went with his head nodding and 
bobbing about from side to side, while his sure-footed 
old mule stepped along the edge of precipices, and down 
steep and broken barrancos just as safe and steady as if 
it had been on plain ground. At length Tio Nicolo 
awoke, and gazed about him, and rubbed his eyes — and 
in good truth he had reason — the moon shone almost as 
bright as day, and he saw the city below him, as plain as 
your hand, and shining with its white buildings like a 
silver platter in the moonshine; but lord! senor — it was 
nothing like the city he left a few hours before. Instead 
of the cathedral with its great dome and turrets, and the 
churches with their spires, and the convents with their 
pinnacles all surmounted with the blessed cross, he saw 
nothing but Moorish mosques, and minarets, and cupolas, 
all topped off with glittering crescents, such as you see 
on the Barbary flags. Well, sefior, as you may suppose, 
Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at all this, but while he 
was gazing down upon the city a great army came 
marching up the mountain, winding along the ravines, 
sometimes in the moonshine, sometimes in the shade. 
As it drew nigh he saw that there were horse and foot, 
all in Moorish armor. Tio Nicolo tried to scramble out 
of their way, but his old mule stood stock still and re- 
fused to budge, trembling at the same time like u leaf-^ 



A EAMBLE AMONG TEE HILLS. 61 

for dumb beasts, sefior, are just as much frightened at 
such things as human beings. Well, sefior, the hobgob- 
lin army came marching by; there were men that seemed 
to blow trumpets, and others to beat drums and strike 
cymbals, yet never a sound did they make; they all 
moved on without the least noise, just as I have seen 
painted armies move across the stage in the theater of 
Granada, and all looked as pale as death. At last in the 
rear of the army, between two black Moorish horsemen, 
rode the grand inquisitor of Granada, on a mule as white 
as snow. Tio Nicolo wondered to see him in such com- 
pany; for the inquisitor was famous for his hatred of 
Moors, and indeed of all kinds of inMels, Jews and here- 
tics, and used to hunt them out with fire and scourge — ■ 
however, Tio Nicolo felt himself safe, now that there 
was a priest of such sanctity at hand. So, making the 
sign of the cross, he called out for his benediction, when 
—hombre! he received a blow that sent him and his old 
mule over the edge of a steep bank, down which they 
rolled, head over heels, to the bottom. Tio Nicolo did 
not come to his senses until long after sunrise, when he 
found himself at the bottom of a deep ravine, his mule 
grazing beside him, and his panniers of snow completely 
melted. He crawled .back to Granada sorely bruised and 
battered, and was glad to find the city looking as usual, 
with Christian churches and crosses. When he told the 
story of his night^s adventure every one laughed at him: 
some said he had dreamed it all, as he dozed on his mule, 
others thought it all a fabrication of his own. But what 
was strange, sefior, and made people afterward think 
more seriously of the matter, was, that the grand in- 
quisitor died within the year. I have often heard my 
grandfather, the tailor, say that there was more meant 
by that hobgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of 
the priest than folks dared to surmise.'^ 

*'Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, tha^ there 
is a kind of Moorish limbo, or purgatory, in the bowels 
of these mountains, to which the padre inquisitor was 
borne off." 

^'God forbid — sefior — I know nothing of the matter — 
I only relate what I heard from my grandfather.'^ 

By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have 
more succinctly related, and which was interlarded with 



153 THE ALHAMBEA. 

many comments, and spun out with minute details^ w* 
reached the gate of the Alhambra, 



THE COURT OF LIONS. 

The peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace is its 
power of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the 
past, and thus clothing naked realities with the illusions 
of the memory and the imagination. As I delight to 
Avalk in these ''vain shadows/^ I am prone to seek those 
parts of the Alhambra which are most favorable to t'^^ia 
phantasmagoria of the mind; and none are more so than 
the Court of Lions and its surrounding halls. Here the 
hand of time has fallen the lightest, and the traces of 
Moorish elegance and splendor exist in almost their 
original brilliancy. Earthquakes have shaken the foun- 
dations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers, yet see 
— not one of those slender columns has been displaced, 
not an arch of that light and fragile colonnade has given 
way, and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently 
as unsubstantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's 
frost, yet exist after the lapse of centuries, almost as 
fresh as if from the hand of the Moslem artist. 

I write in the midst of these momentos of the past, in 
the fresh hour of early morning, in the fated hall of the 
Abencerrages. The blood-stained fountain, the legend- 
ary monument of their massacre, is before me; the lofty 
jet almost casts its dew upon my paper. How difficult 
to reconcile the ancient tale of violence and blood with 
the gentle and peaceful scene around. Everything here 
appears calculated to inspire kind and happy feelings^; 
for everything is delicate and beautiful. The very light 
falls tenderly from above, through the lantern of a dome 
tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through the 
ample and fretted arch of the portal I behold the Court 
of Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its 
colonnades and sparkling in its fountains. The lively 
swallow dives into the court, and then surging upward, 
darts away twittering over the roof; the busy bee toils 
humming among the flower-beds, and painted butterflies 
'^^over Ivoxn plant to plaut^ and flutter up, and sport with 



THS ClOtTRT OF LlCmS. 63 

each other in the sianny air. It needs but a slight exer- 
tion, of the fancy to picture some pensive beauty of the 
harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of Oriental 
luxury. 

He/ however, Avho would behold this scene under an 
aspect more in unison with its fortunes, let him come 
when the shadows of evening temper the brightness of 
the court and throw a gloom into the surrounding halls — 
then nothing can be more serenely melancholy or more 
in harmony with the tale of departed grandeur. 

At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, 
whose deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper end 
pf the court. Here were performed, in presence of 
Ferdinand and Isabella, and their triumphant court, the 
pompous ceremonies of high mass, on taking possession 
of the Alhambra. The very cross is still to be seen upon 
the wall, where the altar was erected, and where officiated 
the grand cardinal of Spain, and others of the highest 
religious dignitaries of the land. 

I picture to myself the scene when thi» place was filled 
with the conquering host, that mixture of mitered prelate, 
and shorn monk, and steel-clad knight, and silken cour- 
tier: when cross and croziers and religious standards 
were mingled with proud armorial ensigns and the ban- 
ners of the haughty chiefs of Spain, and flaunted m 
triumph through these Moslem halls. I picture to my- 
self Columbus, the future discoverer of a world, taking 
his modest stand in a remote corner, the bumble and 
neglected spectator of the pageant. I see in imagination 
the Catholic sovereigns prostrating themselves before the 
altar and pouring forth thanks for their victory, while 
the vaults resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep- 
toned Te Deum. 

The transient illusion is over — the pageant melts from 
the fancy — monarch, priest, and warrior return into 
oblivion, with the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. 
The hall of their triumph is waste and desolate. The 
bat flits about its twilight vaults, and the owl hoots from 
the neighboring tower of Comares. The Court of the 
Lions has also its share of sujjernatural legends. I have 
already mentioned the belief in the murmuring of voices 
and clanking of chains, made at night by the spirits of 
the murdered Abencerrages. Mateo Ximenes, a few 



64 THE ALHAMBRA, 

evenings since^ at one of the gatherings in Dame 
Antonia^s apartment^ related a fact which happened 
within the knowledge of his grandfather, the legendary 
tailor. There was an invalid soldier, who had charge of 
the Alhambra, to show it to strangers. As he was one 
evening about twilight passing through the Court of 
Lions he heard footsteps in the Hall of the Abencer- 
rages. Supposing some loungers to be lingering there, 
he advanced to attend upon them, when, to his astonish- 
ment, he beheld four Moors richly dressed, with gilded 
cuirasses and scimitars, and poniards glittering with 
precious stones. They were walking to and fro with 
solemn pace, but paused and beckoned to him. The old 
soldier, however, took to flight; and could never after- 
ward be prevailed upon to enter the Alhambra. Thus it 
is that men sometimes turn their backs upon fortune; 
for it is the firm opinion of Mateo that the Moors in- 
tended to reveal the place where their treasures lay 
buried. A successor to the invalid soldier was more 
knowing; he came to the Alhambra poor, but at the end 
of a year went off to Malaga, bought horses, set up a car- 
riage, and still lives there, one of the richest as well as 
oldest men of the place: all which, Mateo sagely sur- 
mises, was in consequence of his finding out the golden 
secret of these phantom Moors. 

On entering the Court of the Lions a few evenings 
since, I was startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly 
seated near the fountain. It seemed, for a moment, as 
if one of the stories of Mateo Ximenes were realized, and 
some ancient inhabitant of the Alhambra had broken the 
spell of centuries and become visible. It proved, how- 
>ever, to be a mere ordinary mortal; a native of Tetuan 
in Barbary, who had a shop in the Zacatin of Granada, 
where he sold rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As he 
spoke Spanish fluently, I was enabled to hold conversa- 
tion with him, and found him shrewd and intelligent. 
He told me that he came up the hill occasionally in the 
summer, to pass a part of the day in the Alhambra, 
which reminded him of the old palaces in Barbary, 
which were built and adorned in similar style, though 
with less magnificence. 

As we walked about the palace he pointed out several 
of the Arabic inscriptions,- as possessing much poetic 
beauty. 



j I t t I 

TEE CO URT OF LIONS, 65 

**Ah! senor," said he, ^%hen the Moors held Granada 
they were a gayer people than they are nowadays. 
They thought only of love, of music, and of poetry. 
They made stanzas upon every occasion, and set them all 
to music. He who could make the best verses, and she 
who had the most tuneful voice, might be sure of favor 
and preferment. In those days, if any one asked for 
bread the reply was, 'Make me a couplet;^ and the poor- 
est beggar, if he begged in rhyme, would often be re- 
warded with a piece of gold/' 

''And is the popular feeling -^or poetry/' said I, "en« 
tirely lost among you?" 

*'By no means, senor: the people of Barbary, even 
those of the lower classes, still make couplets, and good 
ones too, as in the old time, but talent is not rewarded 
as it was then: the rich prefer the jingle of their gold to 
the sound of poetry or music.'' 

As he was talking his eye caught one of the inscrip- 
tions that foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of 
the Moslem monarchs, the masters of the pile. He 
shook his head and shrugged his shoulders as he inter- 
preted it. "Such might have been the case," said he; 
"the Moslems might still have been reigning in the Al- 
hambra had not Boabdil been a traitor, and given up his 
capitol to the Christians. The Spanish monarchs would 
never have been able to conquer it by open force." 

I endeavored to vindicate the memory of the unlucky 
Boabdil from this aspersion, and to show that the dissen- 
sions which led to the downfall of the Moorish throne 
originated in the cruelty of his tiger-hearted father; but 
the Moor would admit of no palliation. 

"Abul Hassan," said he, "might have been cruel, but 
he was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been 
properly seconded Granada would still have been ours; 
but his son Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his' 
power, sowed treason in his palace and dissension in his 
camp. May the curse of God light upon him for his 
treachery." With these words the Moor left the 
Alhambra. 

The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees 
with an anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course 
of a tour in Barbary, had an interview with the pasha of 
Tetuan. The Moorish governor was particular in his 



66 THE ALHAMBBa. 

inquiries about the soil, the climate and resources of 
Spain, and especially concerning the favored regions of 
Andalusia, the delights of Granada and ttie remains of 
its royal palace. The replies awakened all those fond 
recollections, so deeply cherished by the Moors, of the 
power and splendor of their ancient empire in Spain. 
Turning to his Moslem attendants, the pasha stroked his 
beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations that 
such a scepter should have fallen from the sway of true 
believers. He consoled himself, however, with the per- 
suasion that the power and prosperity of the Spanish 
nation were on the decline; that a time would come when 
the Moors would reconquer their rightful domains; and 
that the day was, perhaps, not far distant, when Moham- 
medan worship would again be offered up in the mosque 
of Cordova, and a Mohammedan prince sit on his throne 
in the Alhambra. 

Such is the general aspiration and belief among the 
Mooi;6 of Barbary, who consider Spain, and especially 
Andalusia, their rightful heritage, of which they have 
been despoiled by treachery and violence. These ideas 
^re fostered and perpetuated by the descendants of the 
exiled Moors of Granada, scattered among the cities of 
Barbary. Several of these reside in Tetuan, preserving 
their ancient names, such as Paez, and iiedina, and re- 
fraining from intermarriage with any families who can- 
not claim the same high origin. Their vaunted lineage 
is regarded with a degree of popular deference rarely 
shown in Mohammedan communities to any hereditary 
distinction except in the royal line. 

These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the 
terrestrial paradise of their ancestors, and to put up 
prayers in their mosques on Fridays, imploring Allah toj 
hasten the time when Granada shall be restored to the 
faithful — an event to which they look forward as fondly 
and confidently as did the Christian crusaders to the re- 
covery of the Holy Sepulcher. Nay, it is added that 
some of them retain the ancient maps and deeds of the 
estates and gardens of their ancestors at Granada, and 
even the keys of the houses, holding them as evidences 
of their hereditary claims, to be produced >xi the antici- 
pated day of restoration. 



BOABDIL EL cmCO. 67 



BOABDIL EL CHICO. 

My conversation with the Moor in the Court of Lions 
set me to musing on the singular fate of Boabdii. Never 
was surname more applicable than that bestowed upon 
him by his subjects of '^El Zogoybi/^ or '^the unlucky/' 
His misfortunes began almost in his cradle. In his ten- 
der youth he was imprisoned and menaced with death by 
an inhuman father^ and only escaped through a mother's 
stratagem; in after years his life was imbittered and re- 
peatedly endangered by the hostilities of a usurping 
uncle; his reign was distracted by external invasions and 
internal feuds; he w^as alternately the foe, the prisoner, 
the friend, and always the dupe of Ferdinand, until con- 
quered and dethroned by the mingled craft and force of 
that perfidious monarch. An exile from his native land, 
he took refuge with one of the princes of Africa, and 
fell obscurely in battle fighting in the cause of a stranger. 
His misfortunes ceased not w^ith his death. If Boabdii 
cherished a desire to leave an honorable name on the 
historic page, how cruelly has he been defrauded of his 
hopes! Who is there that has turned the least attention 
to the romantic history of the Moorish domination in 
Spain, without kindling Avith indignation at the alleged 
atrocities of Boabdii? Who has not been touched with 
the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected by 
him to a trial of life and death, on a false charge of in- 
fidelity? Who has not been shocked by the alleged 
murder of his sister and her two children in a transport 
of passion? Who has not felt his blood boil at the in- 
human massacreof the gallant Abencerrages, thirty-six of 
whom, it is affirmed, he caused to be beheaded in the 
Court of the Lions? All these charges have been reiter- 
ated in various forms; they have passed into ballads, 
dramas, and romances, until they have taken too 
thorough possession of the public mind to be eradicated. 

There is not a foreigner of education that visits the 
Alhambra but asks for the fountain where the Abencer- 
rages were beheaded, and gazes with horror at the grated 
gallery Avhere the queen is said to have been eontined; 
not a peasant of the Vega or the Sierra but sings the 
storv in rude (M:)Uplets to the aceompauinuMit of hi? 



68 THE ALHAMBRA. 

guitar, while his hearers learn to execrate the very name 
of Boabdil. 

Never, however, was name more foully and unjustly 
slandered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles 
and letters written by Spanish authors contemporary 
with Boabdil, some of whom were in the confidence of 
the Catholic sovereigns, and actually present in the camp 
throughout the war; I have examined all the Arabian 
authorities I could get access to through the medium of 
translation, and can find nothing to justify these dark 
and hateful accusations. 

The whole of these tales may be traced to a work com- 
monly called ''The Civil Wars of Granada,'^ containing a 
pretended history of the feuds of the Zegries and Abencer- 
rages during the last struggle of the Moorish empire. 
This work appeared originally in Spanish, and professed 
to be translated from the Arabic by one Gines Perez de 
Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia. It has since passed into 
various languages, and Florian has taken from it much 
of the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova. It has, in a 
great measure, usurped the authority of real history, and 
is currently believed by the people, and especially the 
peasantry of Granada. Thj whole of it, however, is a 
mass of fiction, mingled with a few disfigured truths, 
which give it an air of veracity. It bears internal evi- 
dence of its falsity, the manners and customs of the 
Moors being extravagantly misrepresented in it, and 
scenes depicted totally incompatible with their habits 
and their faith, and which never could have been re- 
corded by a Mohammedan writer. 

I confess there seems to me something almost crim- 
inal in the willful perversions of this work. Great lati- 
tude is undoubtedly to be allowed to romantic fiction, but 
there are limits which it must not pass, and the names 
of the distinguished dead, which belong to history, are 
no more to be calumniated than those of the illustrious 
living. One would have thought, too, that the unfor- 
tunate Boabdil had sufl:ered enough for his justifiable 
hostility to Spaniards, by being striped of his kingdom, 
without having his name thus wantonly traduced and 
rendered a byword and a theme of infamy in his native 
land, and in the very mansion of his fathers! 

It is not intended hereby to affirm that the trausao- 



BOABBIL EL CHICO. 69 

tions imputed to Boabdil are totally without historic 
foundation, but as fax as they can be traced they appear 
to have been the arts of his father^ Abul Hassan, who is 
represented by both Christian and Arabian chroniclers 
as being of a cruel and ferocious nature. It was he who 
put to death the cavaliers of the illustrious line of the 
Abencerrages, upon suspicion of their being engaged in 
a conspiracy to dispossess him of his throne. 

The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, 
and of her confinement in one of the towers, may also be 
traced to an incident in the life of his tiger-hearted 
father. Abul Hassan, in his advanced age, married a 
beautiful Christian captive of noble descent, who took 
the Moorish appellation of Zorayda, by whom he had two 
sons. She was of an ambitious spirit, and anxious that 
her children should succeed to the crown. For this pur- 
pose she worked upon the suspicious temper of the king, 
inflaming him with jealousies of his children by his other 
wives and concubines, whom she accused of plotting 
against his throne and life. Some of them were slain by 
the ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, the virtuous 
mother of Boabdil, who had once been his cherishea 
favorite, became likewise the object of his suspicion. 
He confined her and her son in the tower of Comares, 
and would have sacrificed Boabdil to his fury but that 
his tender mother lowered him from the tower, in the 
night, by means of the scarfs of herself and her attend- 
ants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix. 

Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find 
for the story of the accused and captive queen; and in 
this it appears that Boabdil was the persecuted instead of 
the persecutor. 

Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and dis- 
astrous reign Boabdil gives evidences of a mild and 
amiable character. He in the first instance won the 
hearts of the people by his affable and gracious manners.; 
he was always peaceable, and never inflicted any severity 
of punishment upon those who occasionally rebelled 
against him. He was personally brave, but he wanted 
moral courage, and in times of difficulty and perplexity 
was wavering and irresolute. This feebleness of spirit 
hastened his downfall, while it deprived him of that 
heroic grace which would have given a grandeur and 



*0 t'BP. ALHAMmA, 

dignity to his fate, and rendered him worthy of closing 
th^ splendid drama of the Moslem domination in Spain* 



MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 

While my mind was still warm with the subject of 
the unfortunate Boabdil, I set forth to trace the memen- 
tos connected with his story, which yet exist in this scene 
of his sovereignty and his misfortunes^ In the picture 
gallery of the Palace of the Generalifle hangs his por- 
trait. The face is mild, handsome and somewhat melan- 
choly, with a fair complexion and yellow hair; if it be a 
true representation of the man, he may have been waver- 
ing and uncertain, but there is nothing of cruelty or 
unkindness in his aspect. 

I next visited the dungeon wherein he was confined in 
his youthful days, when his cruel father meditated his 
destruction. It is a vaulted room in the tower of 
Comares, under the hall of Ambassadors. A similar 
room, separated by a narrow passage, was the prison of 
his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra. The walls are 
of prodigious thickness, and the small windows secured 
by iron bars. A narrow stone gallery, with a low para- 
pet, extends round three sides of the tower just below 
the windows, but at a considerable height from the 
ground. From this gallery, it is presumed, the queen 
lowered her son with the scarfs of herself and her female 
attendants, during the darkness of night, to the hillside, 
at the foot of which waited a domestic with a fleet steed 
to bear the prince to the mountains. 

As I paced this gallery my imagination pictured the 
anxious queen leaning over the parapet, and listening, 
with the throbbings of a mother's heart, to the last echo 
of the horse's hoofs as her son scoured along the narrow 
valley of the Darro. 

My next search was for the gate by which Boabdil de- 
parted from the Alhambra, when about to surrender his 
capital. With the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, 
he requested of the Catholic monarchs that no one after- 
ward might be permitted to pass through this gat«. 
His prayer, according to ancient chronicles, was f^*---^ 



MEMENTOS OF BOABBTL. iTx 

plied with, through the sympathy of Isabella, and the 
gate walled up. For some time I inquired in vain for 
such a portal; at length my humble attendant, Mateo, 
learned among the old residents of the fortress that a 
ruinous gateway still existed, by which, according to 
tradition, the Moorish king had left the fortress, but 
which had never been opened within the memory of the 
oldest inhabitant. 

He conducted me to the spot- The gateway is in the 
center of what was once an immense tower, cabled la 
Torre de los Siete SueloSy or the Tower of the Seven 
Moors. It is a place famous in the superstitious stories 
of the neighborhood for being the scene of strange 
apparitions and Moorish enchantments. 

This once redoubtable tower is now a mere wreck, 
having been blown up with gunpowder by the French 
when they abandoned the fortress. Great masses of the 
wall lie scattered about, buried in the luxuriant herbage 
or overshadowed by vines and fig-trees. The arch of the 
gateway, though rent by the shock, still remains; but 
the last wish of poor Boabdii has been again, though 
unintentionally, fulfilled, for the portal has been closed 
up by loose stones gathered from the ruins, and remains 
impassable. 

Following up the route of the Moslem monarch as it 
remains o-n record, I crossed on horseback the hill of Les 
Martyrs, keeping along the garden of the convent of the 
same name, and thence down a rugged ravine, beset by 
thickets of aloes and Indian figs, and lined by caves and 
hovels swarming with gypsies. It was the road taken by 
Boabdii to avoid passing through the city. The descent 
was so steep and broken that I was obliged to dismount 
and lead my horse. 

Emerging from the ravine and passing by the Puerta 
de los Molinos (the Gate of the Mills), I issued forth 
upon the public promenade, called the Prado, and par- 
suing the course of the Xenil, arrived at a small Moorish 
mosque, now converted into the chapel, or hermitage, of 
San Sebastian. A tablet on the wall relates that on this 
spot Boabdii surrendered the keys of Granada to the 
Castilian sovereigns. 

From thence I rode slowly across the Vega to a village 
where the family and household of the unhappy krug had 



72 THE ALHAMBBA. 

awaited him; for he had sent them forward on the pre« 
ceding night from the Alhambra, that his mother and 
wife might not participate in his personal humiliation, 
or be exposed to the gaze of the conquerors. 

Following on in the route of the melancholy band of 
royal exiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain of barren 
and dreary heights, forming the skirt of the Alpuxarra 
mountains. From the summit of one of these the un- 
fortunate Boabdil took his last look at Granada. It 
bears a name expressive of his sorrows — La Cuesta de las 
Lagrimas (the Hill of Tears). Beyond it a sandy road 
winds across a rugged, cheerless waste, doubly dismal to 
the unhappy monarch, as it led to exile; behind, in th* 
distance, lies the "enameled Vega,'' with the Xenil 
shining among its bowers, and Granada beyond. 

I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, where 
Boabdil uttered his last sorrowful exclamation as he 
turned his eyes from taking their farewell gaze. It is 
still denominated el ultimo suspiro del Moro (the last 
sigh of the Moor). Who can wonder at his anguish at 
being expelled from such a kingdom and such an abode? 
With the Alhambra he seemed to be yielding up all the 
honors of his line, and all the glories and delights of life. 

It was here, too, that his affliction w^as imbittered by 
the reproach of his mother Ayxa, who had so often as- 
sisted him in times of peril, and had vainly sought to 
instill into him her own resolute spirit. *'You do well,'' 
said she, "to weep as a woman over what you could not 
defend as a man!" A speech that savors more of the 
pride of the princess than the tenderness of the mother. 

When this anecdote was related to Charles V. by 
Bishop Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of 
scorn at the weakness of the waverinng Boabdil. "Had 
I been he, or he been I," said the haughty potentate, "I 
would rather have made this Alhambra my sepulcher 
than have lived without a kingdom in the Alpuxarra." 

How easy it is for them in power and prosperity to 
preach heroism to the vanquished! How little can they 
understand that life itself may rise in value with th^^ 
unfortunate, when naught but life remains. 



THE TOWKIl OF LAS INFANTAS. 



THE TOWER OF LAS IXFAXTAS. 

In" an evening's stroll up a narrow glen overshadowed 
by fig-trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, that divides the 
land of the fortress from those of the Generaliffe, I was 
struck with the romantic appearance of a Moorish tower 
in the outer wall of the Alhambra, that rose high above 
the tree-tops, and caught the ruddy rays of the setting 
sun. A solitary window, at a great height, commanded 
a view of the glen, and as I was regarding it a young 
female looked out, with her head adorned with flowers. 
She was evidently superior to the- usual class of people 
that inhabit the old towers of the fortress; and this 
sudden and picturesque glimpse of her reminded rae of 
the descriptions of captive beauties in fairy tales. The 
fanciful associations of my mind were increased on being 
informed by my attendant, Mateo, that this was the 
tower of the Princesses (la Torre de las Infantas), so 
called from having been, according to tradition, the resi- 
dence of the daughters of the Moorish kings. I have 
since visited the tower. It is not generally shown to 
strangers, though well worthy attention, for the interior 
is equal for beauty of architecture and delicacy of orna- 
ment to any part of the palace. The elegance of its 
central hall with its marble fountain, its lofty arches and 
richly fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco work of 
the small but well proportioned chambers, though in- 
jured by time and neglect, all accord with the story of its 
ceing anciently the aloode of royal beauty. 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase 
of the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of 
Dame Antonia, tells some fanciful traditions about three 
Moorish princesses who were once shut up in this tosver 
by their father, a tyrant king of Granada, ar-^. were only 
permitted to ride out at night about the hills, when no 
one was permitted to come in their way, under pain of 
ieath. They still, according to her account, may be 
seen occasionally when the moon is in the full, riding in 
lonely places along the mountain side, on palfreys richly 
caparisoned, and sparkling with jewels, but they vanish 
on being spoken to. 

But before I relate anything further respecting these 



^4 TUB ALHAMBRA. 

princesses the reader may be anxious to know sometliiri^ 
about the fair inhabitant of the tower with her heaa 
dressed with iiowers, who looked out from the lofty win* 
dow. She proved to be the newly married spouse of the 
worthy adjutant of invalids; wlio, though well stricken 
in years, had had the courage to take to his bosom a 
young and buxom Andalusian damsel. May the good 
old cavalier be happy in his choice, and find the tower of 
the Princesses a more secure residence for female beauty 
than it seems to have proved in the time of the Moslems, 
if we may believe the following legend* 



THE HOUSE OP THE WEATHEECOCK. 

On the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the 
highest part of the city of Granada, stand the remains of 
what was once a royal palace, founded shortly after the 
conquest of Spain by the Arabs. It is now converted 
into a manufactory, and has fallen into such obscurity 
that it cost me much trouble to find it, notwithstanding 
that I had the assistance of the sagacious and all-knowing 
Mateo Ximenes. This edifice still bears the name by 
which it has been known for centuries, namely, la Casa 
del Gallo de Viento; that is, the House of the Weather- 
cock. 

It was so called from a bronze figure of a warrior on 
horseback, armed with shield and sjoear, erected on one 
of its turrets, and turning with every wind; bearing an 
Arabic motto, which, translated into Spanish, was as 
follows: 



Dici el Sabio Aben Habuz 
Que asi se defiende el Anduluz, 

In this way, says Aben Habuz the wise. 
The Andalusian his foe defies. 



^1 



This Aben Habuz was a captain who served in the in- 
vading army of Taric, and was left as alcayde of Gra- 
nada. He is supposed to have intended this warlike effigy 
as a perpetual memorial to the Moorish iiihabitants that 
surrounded as they were by foes, and subject tc sudden 



TBB ABABIAN ASTROIOQER % 

invasion, their safety depended upon being always ready 
for the field. 

Other traditions, however, give a different account of 
this Aben Habuz and his palace, and affirm that his 
bronze horseman was originally a talisman of great virtue, 
though in after ages it lost its magic properties and 
degenerated into a weathercock. The following are th© 
traditions alluded to. 



THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 

In old times, many hundred years ago, there was a 
Moorish king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the 
kingdom of Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that 
is to say, one who, having in his more youthful days led 
a life of constant foray and depredation, now that he w^as 
grown old and superannuated, * 'languished for repose,'^ 
and desired nothing more than to live at peace with all 
the world, to husband his laurels and to enjoy in quiet 
the possessions he had wrested from his neighbors. 

It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and 
pacific old monarch had young rivals to deal with — 
princes full of his early passion for fame and fighting, 
and who had some scores to settle which he had run up 
with their fathers; he had also some turbulent and dis- 
contented districts of his own territories among the 
Alpuxarra Mountains, which, during the days of his 
vigor, he had treated with a high hand; and which, now 
that he languished for repose, were prone to rise in re- 
bellion and to threaten to march to Granada and drive 
him from his throne. To make the matter worse, as 
Granada is surrounded by wild and craggy mountains 
which hide the approach of an enemy, the "unfortunate 
Aben Habuz was kept in a constant state of vigilance 
and alarm, not knowing in what quarter hostilities might 
break out. 

It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the moun- 
tains and stationed guards at every pass, with orders to 
make fires by night, and smoke by day, on the approach 
of an enemy. His alert foes would baffle every precau- 
tion, and come breaking out of some unthought-of defila 



70 THE ALIIAMBRA, 

— ravage his lands beneath his very nose, and then make 
ofiE with nrisoners and booty to the mountains. Was 
ever peaceable and retired conqueror in a more uncom- 
fortable predicament! 

While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by these 
perplexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian physi- 
cian arrived at his court. His gray beard descended to 
his girdle, and he had every mark of extreme age, yet he 
had traveled almost the whole way from Egypt on foot, 
with no other aid than a stafE marked with hieroglyphics, 
His fame had preceded him. His name was Ibrahim 
Ebn Abu Ayub; he was said to have lived ever since the 
days of Mohammed, and to be the son of Abu Ayub, the 
last of the companions of the prophet. He had, when a 
child, followed the conquering army of Amru into Egypt, 
where he had remained many years studying the dark 
sciences, and particularly magic, among the Egyptian 
priests. It was moreover said that he had found out the 
secret of prolonging life, by means of which he had 
arrived to the great age of upward of two centuries; 
though, as he did not discover the secret until well 
stricken in years, he could only perpetuate his gray hairs 
and wrinkles. 

This wonderful old man was very honorably enter- 
tained by the king, who, like most superannuated mon- 
archs, began to take physicians into great favor. He 
would have assigned him an apartment in his palace, but 
the astrologer preferred a cave in the side of the hill, 
which rises above the city of Granada, being the same on 
which the Alhambra has since been built. He caused 
the cave to be enlarged so as to form a spacious and lofty 
hall with a circular hole at the top, through which, as 
through a well, he could see the heavens and behold the 
stars even at midday. The walls of this hall were covered 
with Egyptian hieroglyphics, with cabalistic symbols, 
and with the figures of the stars in their signs. This 
hall he furnished with many implements, fabricated 
under his direction by cunning artificers of Granada, but 
the occult properties of which were only known to him* 
self. In a little while the sage Ibrahim became .the 
bosom counselor of the king, to whom he applied foi 
advice in every emergency. 

Aben Habuz was once inveighing against the injustice 



THE ARABIAN ASTBOLOGEM, 77 

of his neighbors, and bewailing the restless vigilance he 
had to observe to guard himself against their invasions; 
when he had finished the astrologer remained silent for 
a moment, and then replied, '^Know, king, that when 
I was in Egypt I beheld a great marvel devised by a 
pagan priestess of old. On a mountain above the city of 
Borsa, and overlooking the great valley of the Nile, was 
a figure of a ram, and above it a figure of a cock, both 
of molten brass and turning upon a pivot. Whenever 
the country was threatened with invasion the ram would 
turn in the direction of the enemy and the cock would 
crow; upon this the inhabitants of the city knew of the 
danger and of the quarter from which it was approach- 
ing, and could take timely notice to guard against it.^^ 

''God is greatl'^ exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz; 
*Vhat a treasure would be such a ram to keep an eye 
upon these mountains around me and then such a cock to 
crow in time of danger! Allah Achbar! how^ securely I 
might sleep in my palace with such sentinels on the topP' 

^'Listen, king," continued the astrologer gravely. 
''When the victorious Amru (God's peace be upon him I) 
conquered the city of Borsa this talisman was destroyed; 
but I was present and examined it and studied its secret 
and mystery, and can make one of like and even of greater 
virtues.'^ 

"0 wise son of Abu Ayub,'' cried Aben Habuz, "better 
were such a talisman than all the watch-towers on the 
hills, and sentinels upon the borders. Give me such a 
safeguard, and the riches of my treasury are at thy com- 
mand.'^ 

The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify the 
wishes of the monarch; shutting himself up in his astro- 
logical hall and exerting the necromantic arts he had 
(earned in Egypt, he summoned to his assistance the 
spirits and demons of the NiFe. By his command they 
transported to his presence a mummy from a sepulchral 
chamber in the center of one of the Pyramids. It was 
the mummy of the priest who had aided by magic art in 
rearing that stupendous pile. 

The astrologer opened the outer cases of the mummy, 
ttnd unfolded its many wrappers. On the breast of the 
corpse was a book written in Chaldaic characters. He 
fjtm^^ it with tr^mWiog band, then returning the 



78 THE ALHAMBEA. 

mummy to its case, ordered the demons to transport it 
again to its dark and silent sepulcher in the Pyramid, 
there to await the final day of resurrection and judgment 

This book, says the traditions, was the book of knowI» 
edge given by God to Adam after his fall. It had been 
handed down from generation to generation, to King 
Solomon the Wise, and by the aid of the wonderful 
secrets in magic and art revealed in it, he had built the 
^temple of Jerusalem. How it had come into the posses- 
sion of the builder of the Pyramids, He only knows who 
knows all things. 

Instructed by this mystic volume and aided by the 
genii which it subjected to his command, the astrologer 
soon erected a great tower upon the top of the palace of 
Aben Habuz, which stood on the brow of the hill of the 
Albaycin. The tower was built of stones brought from 
Egypt, and taken, it is said, from one of the Pyramids. 
In the upper part of the tower was a circular hall, with 
windows looking toward every point of the compass, and 
before each window was a table, on which was arranged, 
as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse and foot, 
with the effigy of the potentate that ruled in that direc- 
tion, all carved of wood. To each of these tables there 
was a small lance, no bigger than a bodkin, on which 
were engraved certain mysterious Chaldaic characters. 
This hall was kept constantly closed by a gate of brass 
with a great lock of steel, the key of which was in pos* 
session of the king. 

On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moor* 
ish horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, 
and his lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this 
horseman was toward the city, as if keeping guard over 
it; but if any foe were at hand the figure would turn in 
that direction and would level the lance as if for action. 

When this talisman was finished Aben Habuz was all 
impatient to try its virtues; and longed as ardently for 
an invasion as he had ever sighed after repose. His de- 
sire was soon gratified. Tidings were brought early one 
morning, by the sentinel appointed to watch the tower, 
that the face of the brazen horseman was turned toward 
the mountains of Elvira, and that his lance pointed 
directly against tlie pass of Lop^. 

"Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and all 
Granada be put on the alert,'' said Aben Habuz, 



THE AHABIAM ASIRaLOGER. 7S 



tii 



*0 king,'^ said the astrologer, *^let not youi city be 
disquietude nor your warriors called to arms; we D^eed no 
aid of force to aeliver you from your enemies. Dismiss 
your attendants and let us proceed alone to the secret 
nail of the tower. '^ 

The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the 
xower, leaning on the arm of the still more ancient 
Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub. They unlocked the brazen 
door and entered. The window that looked toward the 
pass of Lope was open. ''In this direction/^ said the 
astrologer, ''lies the danger — approach, king, and be- 
hold the mystery of the table. '^ 

King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chess- 
board, on which were arranged the small wooden effigies; 
when lo! they were ail in motion. The horses pranced 
and curveted, the warriors brandished their weapons, 
and there was a faint sound of drums and trumpets, and 
a clang of arms and neighing of steeds, but all no louder 
nor more distinct than the hum of the bee or summer- 
fly in the drowsy ear of him who lies at noontide in the 
shade. 

''Behold, king,'^ said the astrologer, **a proof that 
thy enemies are even now in the field. They must be 
advancing through yonder mount^iins by the pass of Lop^c 
Would you produce a panic and confusion among them- 
and cause them to abandon their enterprise and retreat 
without loss of life, strike these effigies with the butt 
end of this magic lance; but would you cause bloody 
feud and carnage among them, strike with the point/' 

A livid streak passed across the countenance of the 
pacific Aben Habuz; he seized the mimic lance with 
trembling eagerness, and tottered toward the table; his 
gray beard wagged with chuckling exultation. "Son of 
Abu Avub,'^ exclaimed he, "I think we will have a little 
blood !'^^ 

So saying he thrust the magic lance into some of the 
pygmy effigies, and belabored others with the butt end; 
upon which the former fell, as dead, upon the board, 
and the rest, turning upon each other, began, pell-mell, 
a chance-medley fight. 

It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the 
hand of the most pacific of monarchi:, and prevent hii^i 
from absolutely exterminating his foe^o At length hg 



80 THE A LEA MBRA 

prevailed upon him to leave the tower, and to send out 
scouts to the mountains by the pass of Lope. 

Thev returned with the intelligence that a Christian 
army liad advanced through the heart of the Sierra, 
almost within sight of Granada, when a dissension hav- 
ing broken out among them, they had turned their 
weapons against each other, and after much slaughter, 
had retreated over the border. 

Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving 
the efficacy of the talisman. ^'At length,^^ said he, **I 
shall lead a life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies 
in my power. Oh! wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I 
bestow on thee in reward for such a blessing ?'' 

''The wants of an old man and a philosopher, king, 
are few and simple — grant me but the means of fitting 
up my cave as a suitable hermitage, and I am content.^^ 

*'How noble is the moderation of the truly wise!'^ ex- 
claimed Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness 
of the recompense. He summoned his treasurer, and 
bade him dispense whatever sums might be required by 
Ibrahim to complete and furnish his hermitage. 

The astrologer now gave orders to have various cham- 
bers hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of 
apartments connected with his astrological hall. These 
he caused to be furnished with luxurious ottomans and 
divans; and the walls to be hung with the richest silks 
of Damascus. ''I am an old man,'' said he, '"and can 
no longer rest my bones on stone couches; and these 
damp walls require covering.'^ 

He also had baths constructed and provided with all 
kinds of perfumery and aromatic oils; **for a bath,'' said 
he, *'i-s necessary to counteract the rigidity of age, and 
to restore freshness and suppleness to the frame withered 
by study.'' 

He caused the apartments to be hung with innumer- 
able silver and crystal lamps, which he filled with a fra- 
grant oil prepared according to a recipe discovered by 
him in the tombs of Egypt. This oil was perpetual in 
its nature, and diffused a soft radiance like the tempered 
light of day. **The light of the sun," said he, 'is too 
garish and violent for the eyes of an old man; and the 
light of the lamp ig '^^lore congenial to the studies of a 
philosopher." 



THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER, 81 

The treasurer of King Aben Habiiz groaned at the 
sums daily demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he 
carried his comph^ints to the king. The royal word, 
however, was given — Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders. 
^*We must have patience,^' said he; **this old man has 
iaken his idea of a philosophic retreat from the interior 
t/f the Pyramids and the vast ruins of Egypt; but all 
•things have an end, and so will the furnishing of his 
cavern.'' 

The king was in the right; the hermitage was at 
length complete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean 
^^alace. **I am now content,'' said Ibrahim Ebn Abu 
Ayub, to the treasurer; '*! will shut myself up in my cell 
and devote my time to study. I desire nothing more — 
nothing — except a trifling solace to amuse me at the in- 
tervals of mental labor." 

^-Ohl wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt; I am bound 
to furnish all that is necessary for thy solitude.'' 

'^I would fain have, then, a few dancing women, '^ said 
the philosopher. 

^'Dancing women!" echoed the treasurer with sur- 
prise. 

^'Dancing women," replied the sage gravely: ^*a few 
will suffice; for I am an old man and a philosopher, of 
simple habits and easily satisfied. Let them, however, 
be young and fair to look upon — for the sight of youth 
and beauty is refreshing to old age." 

While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub passed his 
time thus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben 
Habuz carried on furious campaigns in effigy in his tower. 
It was a glorious thing for an old man like himself, of 
quiet habits, to have war made easy, and to be enabled 
to amuse himself in his chamber by brushing away whole 
armies like so many swarms of flies. For a time ho 
rioted in the indulgence of his humors, and even taunted 
and insulted his neighbors to induce them to make in- 
cursions; but by degrees they grew wary from repeated 
diwsasters until no one ventured to invade his territories. 
For many months the bronze horseman remained on the 
peace establislnnent with his lance elevated in the air, 
and the worthy old monarch began to repine at the want 
of his accustomed sport, and to grow peevish at hi^ 
monotonous tranquil) '<^^ 



82 THE ALHAMBRA. 

At length, one day, the talismanic horseman veered 
suddenly round, and, lowering his lance, made a dead 
point toward the mountains of Guadix. Aben Habua 
hastened to his tower, but the magic table in that direc- 
tion remained quiet — not a single warrior was in motion. 
Perplexed at the circumstance, he sent forth a troop of 
horse to scour the mountains and reconnoiter. They 
returned after three days' absence. Rodovan, the cap- 
tain of the troop, addressed the king: ^*We have 
searched every mountain pass,'' said he, ^*but not a helm 
or spear was stirring. All that we found in the course 
of our foray was a Christian damsel of surpassing beauty, 
sleeping at noontide beside a fountain, whom we have 
brought away captive." 

^'A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben 
Habuz, his eyes gleaming with animation: "let her be 
conducted into my presence." 'Tardon me, king!" 
replied Rodovan, "but our warfare at present is scanty, 
and yields but little harvest. I had hoped this chance 
gleaning would have been allowed for my services." 

"Chance gleaning!" cried Aben Habuz. "What! a 
damsel of surpassing beauty! By the head of my father! 
it is the choice fruits of warfare, only to be garnered up 
into the royal keeping. Let the damsel be brought 
hither instantly." 

The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into 
his presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic style, with 
all the luxury of ornament that had prevailed among the 
Gothic Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. 
Pearls of dazzling whiteness were entwined with her raven 
tresses, and jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivaling 
the luster of her eyes. Around her neck was a golden 
chain, to which was suspended a silver lyre which hung 
by her side. 

> The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks 
of fire on the withered, yet combustible breast of Aben 
Habuz, and set it in a flame. The swimming voluptuous- 
ness of her gait made his senses reel. "Fairest of 
women," cried he, with rapture, "who and what art 
thou?" 

"The daughter of one of the Gothic princes who lately 
ruled over this land. The armies of my father have been 
destroyed as if by magic among these mountains, he has 
b^en drivGU into exile*, and his ^daughter is a slave," 



TEE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. Sf 

*^Be comforted, beautiful princess — thou art no longer 
a slave, but a sovereign; turn thine eyes graciously upon 
Aben Habuz, and reign over him and his dominions. 

^^Beware, king/Mvhispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub; 
^Hhis may be some spirit conjured up by the magicians 
of the Goths, and sent for thy undoing. Or it may be 
one of those northern sorceresses, who assume the most 
seducing forms to beguile the unwary. Methinks I read 
vwitchcraft in her eye, and sorcery in every movement. 
^Let my soverign beware — this must be the enemy pointed 
out by the talisman. ^^ *^Son of Abu Ayub," replied the 
king," *^you are a wise man and a conjuror, I grant — ^but 
you are little versed in the ways of woman. In the 
knowledge of the sex, I will yield to no man; no, not to 
the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding the number 
of his wives and his concubines. As to this damsel, I 
see much comfort in her for my old days, even such com- 
fort as David, the father of Solomon, found in the 
society of Abishag the Shunamite.'^ 

^'Hearken, king," rejoined the astrologer, suddenly 
changing his tone — ^'I have given thee many triumphs 
over thy enemies, and by means of my talisman, yet 
thou hast never given me share of the spoils; grant me 
this one stray captive to solace me in my retirement, and 
I am content." 

^^What!" cried Aben Habuz, **more women! hast thou 
not already dancing women to solace thee — what more 
wouldst thou desire?" 

**Dancing women have I, it is true; but I have none 
that sing; and music is a balm to old age. This captive, 
I jperceive, beareth a silver lyre, and must be skilled in 
minstrelsy. Give her to me, I pray thee, to soothe my 
senses after the toil of study." 

The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and he 
loaded the philosopher with reproaches. The latter 
retired indignantly to his hermitage, but ere he departed 
he again warned the monarch to beware of his beautiful 
captive. Where, in fact, is the old man in love that will 
listen to counsel? Aben Habuz had felt the full power 
of the witchery of the eye, and the sorcery of movement, 
and the more he gazed the more he was enamored. 

He resigned himself to the full sway of his passions. 
^i8 only study was how to render himself amiable in the 



84 THE ALHAMBRA. 

eyes of the Gothic beauty. He had not youth, it is true, 
to recommend him, but then he had riches; and when a 
lover is no longer young he becomes generous. The 
Zacatin of Granada was ransacked for the most precious 
merchandise of the East. Silks, jewels, precious gems 
and exquisite perfumes, all that Asia and Africa yielded 
of rich and rare, were lavished upon the princess. She 
received all as her due, and regarded them with the in- 
difference of one accustomed to magnificence. All kinds 
of spectacles and festivities were devised for her enter- 
tainment — minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights. 
Granada, for a time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. 
The Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing 
expense, as if she sought to drain the treasures of the 
monarch. There were no bounds to her caprice, or to 
the extravagance of her ideas. Yet, notwithstanding all 
this munificence, the venerable Aben Habuz could not 
flatter himself that he had made any impression on her 
heart. She never frowned on him, it is true, but she 
had a singular way of baffling his tender advances. 
Whenever he began to plead his passion she struck her 
silver lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound: on 
hearing of it, an irresistible drowsiness seized upon the 
superannuated lover, he fell asleep, and only woke when 
the temporary fumes of passion had evaporated. Still 
the dream of love had a bewitching power over his senses; 
so he continued to dream on; while all Granada scoffed 
at his infatuation, and groaned at the treasures lavished 
for a song. 

At length a danger burst over the head of Aben Habuz, 
against which his talisman yielded him no warning. A 
rebellion broke out in the very heart of his capital, 
headed by the bold Rodovan. Aben Habuz was, for a 
time, besieged in his palace, and it was not without the 
greatest difficulty that he repelled his assailants and 
quelled the insurrection. 

He now felt himself compelled once more to resort to 
the assistance of the astrologer. He found him still shut 
up in his hermitage, chewing the cud of resentment. 
^'0 wise son of Abu Ayub,'' said he, 'Svhat thou hast 
foretold, has, in some sort, come to pass. This Gothic 
princess has brought trouble and danger upon me/' 

''Is the king then disposed to put her away from him ?^' 
§aicl the astrologer with animation. 



THE ARABIAN ASTUOLOGEB. m 

**Sooiier would I part with mv kingdom I'* replieil 
Aben Habuz. 

*^What then is the need of disturbing me in my philo- 
sophical retirement?'' said the astrologer peevishly. 

*^Be not angry, sagest of philosophers. I would 
fain have one more exertion of thy magic art. Devise 
some means by which I may be secure from internal treason 
as well as outward war — some safe retreat, where I may 
take refuge and be at peace. '^ 

The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a subtU 
gleam shone from his eye under his bushy eyebrowSo 

^'Thou hast heard, no doubt, king,'^ said he, ''of the 
palace and garden of Irem, whereof mention is made in 
that chapter of the Koran entitled 'the dawn of day.* '* 

"I have heard of that garden — marvelous things are 
related of it by the pilgrims who visit Mecca, but I have 
thought them wild fables, such as those are prone to tell 
who visit remote regions.'* 

"Listen, king, and thou shalt know the mystery of 
that garden. In my younger days I was in Arabia the 
Happy, tending my father's camels. One of them strayed 
away from the rest, and was lost. I searched for it for 
several days about the deserts of Aden, until wearied and 
faint, I laid myself down and slept under a palm-tree by 
the side of a scanty well. When I awoke 1 found my- 
self at the gate of a city. I entered and beheld noble 
streets and squares and market places, but all were silent 
and without an inhabitant. I wandered on until I came 
to a sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned with foun 
tains and fish-ponds; and groves and flowers; and orchards 
laden with delicious fruit; but still no one was to be 
^seen. Upon which, appalled at this loneliness, I has-^ 
tened to depart, and, after issuing forth at the gate o£ 
the city, I turned to look upon the place, but it was no 
longer to b*e seen — nothing but the silent desert extendecl 
before my eyes. 

''In the neighborhood I met with an aged dervise, 
"learned in the traditions and secrets of the land, and re- 
lated to him what had befallen me. 'This,* said he, *is 
the far-famed garden of Irem, one of the wonders of the 
desert. It only appears at times to some wanderer like 
thyself, gladdening him with the sight o! towers and 
palaces, and garden walls overhung with richly ladea 



86 THE ALHAMBHA. 

fruit-trees, and then vanishes, leaving nothing but a 
lonely desert. And this is the story of it ; In old times, 
when this country was inhabited by the Addiles, King 
Sheddad, the son of Ad, the great-grandson of Noah, 
founded here a splendid city. When it was finished, 
and b*3 saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up with 
pride and arrogance, and he determined to build a 
royal palace, with gardens that should rival all that was 
related in the Koran of the celestial paradise. But the 
curse of Heaven fell upon liim for his presumption. He 
and his subjects were swept from the earth, and his 
splendid city, and palace, cind garden, were laid under a 
pei'petual spell that hides them from the human sight, 
excepting that they are seen at intervals; by way of 
keeping his sin in perpetual remembrance.^ 

"This story, king, and the wonders I had seen, ever 
dwell in my mind, and, in after years, when I had been 
in Efi^pyt and made myself master of all kinds of magic 
spells, 1 determined to return and visit the garden of 
Irem. I did so, and found it revealed to my instructed 
sight. I took possession of the palace of Sheddad, and 
passed several days in his mock paradise. The genii who 
watch over the place were obedient to my magic power, 
and revealed to me the spells by which the whole garden 
had been, as it were, conjured into existence, and by 
which it was rendered invisible. Such spells, king, 
.are within the scope of my art. What sayest thou? 
Wouldst thou have a palace and garden like those of 
Irem, filled with all manner of delights, but hidden from 
the eyes of mortals ?^^ 

"0 wise son of Abu Ayub,^^ exclaimed Aben Habuz, 
trembling with eagerness — "contrive me such a para- 
dise, and ask any reward, even to half of my kingdom/^ 

"Alas/^ replied the other, "thou knowest I am an old 
man, and a philosopher, and easily satisfied; all the re- 
ward I ask, is the first beast of burden, with its load, 
that shall enter the magic portal of the palace.^^ 

The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipula- 
tion, and the astrologer began his work. On the summit 
of the hill immediately above his subterranean hermitage 
he caused a great gateway or barbican to be erected, 
opening through the center of a strong tower. There 



THE ARABIAN A8TE0L0GER 87 

was an outer vestibule or porch with a lofty arch, and 
within it a portal secured by massive gates. On the 
keystone of the portal the astrologer, with his own hand, 
wrought the figure of a huge key, and on the keystone 
of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier than 
that of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These 
were potent talismans, over which he repeated many 
sentences in an unknown tongue. 

When this gateway was finished he shut himself up 
for two days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret in- 
cantations; on the third he ascended the hill, and passed 
the whole day on its summit. At a late hour of the 
night he came down and presented himself before Aben 
Habuz. *^'At length, king,'' said he, *^my labor is 
accomplished. On the summit of the hill stands one of 
the most delectable palaces that ever the head of man 
devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains sump- 
tuous halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool foun- 
tains and fragrant baths; in a word, the whole mo'^ntain 
is converted into a paradise. Like the garden of Irem, 
it is protected by a mighty charm, which hides it from 
the view and search of mortals, excepting such as possess 
the secret of its talismans.^' 

^'Enough,'' cried Aben Habuz joyfully; *'^to-morrow 
morning, bright and early, we will ascend and take pos- 
session.'' The happy monarch scarcely slept that night. 
Scarcely had the rays of the sun begun to play about tha 
snowy summit of the Sierra Nevada when he mounted 
his steed, and accompanied only by a few chosen attend- 
ants, ascended a steep and narrow road leading up the 
hill. Beside him, on a white palfrey, rode the Gothic 
princess, her dress sparkling with jew^els, while round her 
neck was suspended her silver lyre. The astrologer 
walked on the other side of the king, assisting his steps 
with his hieroglyphic staff, for he never mounted steed 
of any kind, 

Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the promised 
palace brightening above him, and the embowered ter 
races of its gardens stretching along the heights, but as 
yet nothing of the kind was to be descried. **That is 
the mystery and safeguard of the place," .^did the as- 
trologer, **nothing can be discerned until you have passed 
the spcll-bouud i^ateway, and been put m possession of 



88 TEE ALHAMBJRl, 

As fhey approached the gateway the astrologer paused, 
tind pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key 
carved upon the portal and the arch. '* These/* said he, 
**are the talismans which guard the entrance to this 
paradise. Until yonder hand shall reach dow^n and 
seize that key, neither mortal po^ver nor magic artifice 
can prevail against the lord of this mountain/' 

While Aben Habuz was gazing with open mouth and 
silent wonder at these mystic talismans, the palfrey of 
the princess proceeded on, and bore her in at the portal, » 
to the very center of the barbican. 

*^Behold,'' cried the astrologer, ^^my promised reward! 
the first animal with its burden that should enter the 
magic gateway.'* 

Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry 
of the ancient man; but when he found him to be in 
earnest his gray beard tremblea with indignation. 

**Son of Abu Ayub/' said he sternly, ''what equivoca- 
tion is this? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise, 
the first beast of burd^jn, with its load, that should enter 
this portal. Take the strongest mule in my stables, load 
it with the most precious things of my treasury, and il 
is thine; but dare not to raise thy thoughts to her, who 
is the delight of my heart.'* 

*'What need I of wealth,'* cried the astrologer scorn- 
fully; '*have I not the book of knowledge of Solomon 
the Wise, and through it, the command of the secret 
treasures of the earth? The princess is mine by right; 
thy royal word is pledged; I claim her as my own." 

The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the pride of 
youth and beauty, and a light smile of scorn curled her 
rosy lip at this dispute between two gray beards for her 
charms. The wrath of the monarch got the better of 
his discretion. ''Base son of the desert," cried he, 
^'thou mayest be master of many arts, but know me for 
thy master — and presume not to juggle with thy king." 

"My master!" echoed the astrologer, ''my king! The 
monarch of a mole-hill to claim sway over him who pos- 
sesses the talismans of Solomon! Farewell, Aben 
Habuz; reign over thy petty kingdom, and revel in thy 
paradise of fools — for me, I will laugh at thee in my 
philosophic retirement." 

So spying, be sejjjed tho bridle of th§ palfrey^ smQW 



TBB ARABIAN ASTROLOGEn. 89 

the earth with his staff, and sank with the Gothic prin- 
cess through the center of the barbican. The earth 
closed over them, and no trace remained of the opening 
by which they had descended. Aben Habuz was struck 
dumb for a time with astonishment. Recovering him- 
self he ordered a thousand workmen to dig with pickax 
and spade into the ground where the astrologer had dis- 
appeared. They digged and digged, but in vain; the 
flinty bosom of the hill resisted their implements; or if 
they did penetrate a little way, the earth filled in again 
as fast as they threw it out. Aben Habuz sought the 
mouth of the cavern at the foot of the hill, leading to 
the subterranean palace of the astrologer, but it was no- 
where to be found: where once had been an entrance, 
was now a solid surface of primeval rock. With the dis- 
appearance of Ibrahim Ebn Ahu Ayub ceased the benefit 
of his talismans. The bronze horseman remained fixed 
with his face turned toward the hill, and his spear 
pointed to the spot where the astrologer had descended, 
as if there still lurked the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. 
Prom time to time the sound of music and the tones of a 
female voice could be faintly heard from the bosom of 
the hill, and a peasant one day brought word to the king 
that in the preceding night he had found a fissure in the 
rock, by which he had crept in until he looked down into 
a subterranean hall, in which sat the astrologer on a 
magnificent divan, slumbering and nodding to the silver 
lyre of the princess, which seemed to hold a magic sway 
over his senses. 

Aben Habuz sought for the fissure in the rock, but it 
was again closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth 
his rival, but all in vain. The spell of the hand and key 
was too potent to be counteracted by human power. As 
to the summit of the mountain, the site of the promised 
palace and garden, it remained a naked waste: either the 
boasted Elysium was hidden from sight by enchantment or 
was a mere fable of the astrologer. The world charitablv 
supposed the latter, and some used to call the place ^^the 
king's foUy,^^ while others named it ^^the fool's paradise." 

To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbors 
whom he had defied and taunted, and cut up at his 
leisure while master of the talismanic horseman, finding 



90 y^^ ALHAUBRA. 

him no longer protected by magic spell, made inroads 

into his territories from all sides, and the remainder of 
the life of the most pacific of mouarohs was a tissue of 
turmoils. 

At length Aben Habuz died and was buried. Ages 
have since rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on 
the eventful mountain, and in some mc::>sure realizes the 
fabled delights of the garden of Irem. The spell-bound 
gateway still exists, protected, no doubt, by the mystio 
hand and key, and now forms the gate of Justice, the 
grand entrance to the fortress. Under that gateway, it 
is said, the old astrologer remains in his subterranean 
hall, nodding on his divan, lulled by the silver lyre of 
the princess. 

The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at the 
gate, hear the strains occasionally in the summer nights, 
and, yielding to their soporific power, doze quietly at 
their posts. Nay, so drowsy an influence pervades the 
place that even those who w:v!:ch by day may generally 
be seen nodding on the stone ben:^hcs of the barbican or 
sleeping under the neighboring trees; so that it is, in 
fact, the drowsiest military post :n all Christendom. All 
this, say the legends, will endure; from age to age the 
princess will remain captive to the astrologer, and th^ 
astrologer bound up in magic slumber by the princess, 
until the last day; unless the mystic hand shall grasp the 
fated key and dispel the whole charm of this enchanted 
mountain. 



LEGEND OP THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRIN- 

CESSES. 

In old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, 
whose name was Mohamed, to w^hich his subjects added 
the appellation of el Haygari, or ''the left-handed.'' 
Some say he was so called on account of his being really 
more expert with his sinister than his dexter hand; 
others, because he was prone to take everything by the 
wrong end; or, in other words, to mar wherever he med- 
died. Certain it is, either through misfortune or mis- 
management, he was continually in trouble. Thrive 



W4^J 



THREE BE A VTIFUL PRINCESSES. 91 

he driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely 
escaped to Africa with his life, in the disguise of a fisher- 
man. Still he was as brave as he was blundering, and, 
though left-handed, wielded his scimitar to such pur- 
pose that he each time re-established himself upon his 
throne, by dint of hard fighting. Instead, however, of 
learning wisdom from adversity, he hardened his neck, 
and stiffened his left arm in willfulness. The evils of a 
public nature which he thus brought upon himself and 
his kingdom may be learned by those who will delve into 
the Arabian annals of Granada; the present legend deals 
but with his domestic policy. 

As this Mohamed was one day riding forth, with a 
train of his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of 
Elvira, he met a band of horsemen returning from a 
foray into the land of the Christians. They were con- 
ducting a long string of mules laden with spoil, and 
many captives oi both sexes, among whom the monarch 
was struck with the appearance of a beautiful damsel 
richly attired, who sat weeping, on a low palfrey, and 
heeded not the consoling words of a duenna, who rode 
beside her. 

The monjirch was struck with her beauty, and on in- 
quiring of the captain of the troop, found that she was 
the daughter of the alcayde of a frontier fortress that 
had been surprised and sacked in the course of the foray. 

Mohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, 
and had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. 
There everything was devised to soothe her melancholy, 
and the monarch, more and more enamored, sought to 
make her his queen. 

The Spanish maid at first repulsed his addresses. He 
was an infidel — he was the open foe of her country — 
what was worse, he was stricken in years! 

The monarch, finding his assiduities of no avail, deter- 
mined to enlist in his favor tl?'". duenna, who had been 
captured with the lady. She was an Andalusian by 
birth, whose Christian name is forgotten, being men- 
tioned in Moorish legends by no other appellation than 
that of the discreet Cadiga — and discreet, in truth, she 
was, as her whole history makes evident. No sooner had 
the Moorish king held a little private conversation with 
her than she saw at once the cogency of his reasoning, 
and undertook his cause wit^ her young mistress. 



92 THE ALBAMBEa. 

**Go to, now!** cried she; *^what is tnere in all this to 
weep and wail about? Is it not better to be mistress of 
this beautiful palace, with all its gardens and fountains, 
than to be shut up within your father's old frontier 
tower? As to this Mohamed being an infidel — what is 
that to the purpose? You marry him — not his religion. 
And if he is waxing a little old, the sooner will you be a 
widow and mistress of yourself. At any rate you are in 
his power — and must either be a queen or a slave. When 
in the hands of a robber it is better to sell one^s mer- 
chandise for a fair price than to have it taken by main 
force. ^' 

The arguments of the discreet Cadiga prevailed. The 
Spanish lady dried her tears and became tho spouse of 
Mohamed the left-handed. She even conformed in ap- 
pearance to the faith of her royal husband, and her dis- 
creet duenna immediately became a zealous convert to 
the Moslem doctrines; it was then the latter received the 
Arabian name of Cadiga, and was permitted to- remain in 
the confidential employ of her mistress. 

In due process of time, the Moorish king was made the 
proud and happy father of three lovely daughters, all 
born at a birth. He could have wished they had been 
sons, but consoled himself with the idea that three 
daughters at a birth were pretty well for a man some- 
what stricken in years, and left-handed. 

As usual with all Moslem monarehs, he summoned his 
astrologers on this happy event. They cast the nativi- 
ties of the three princesses, and shook their heads. 
^'Daughters, O king,*' said they, ^^are always precarious 
property; but these will most need your watchfulness 
when they arrive at a marriageable age. At that time 
gather them under your wing, and trust them to no 
other guardianship.'* 

Mohamed, the left-handed, was acknowledged by his 
courtiers to be a wise king, and was certainly so consid- 
ered by himself. The prediction of the astrologers 
caused him but little disquiet, trusting to his ingenuity 
to guard his daughters and outwit the fates. 

The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of 
the monarch; his queen bore him no more children, and 
died within a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters 
W his love^ and to the fidelity of the discreet Cadiga 



THBEE BE A UftFVL PRINCESSES. 93 

Many years had yet to elapse before the princesses 
would arrive at that period of danger, the marriageable 
age, '*It is good, however, to be cautious in time/^ said 
the shrewd monarch; so he determined to have them 
reared in the royal castle of Salobrena. This was a 
sumptuous palace, incrusted as it were in a powerful 
Moorish fortress, on the summit of a hill that overlooks 
the Mediterranean Sea. 

It was a royal retreat, in which the Moslem monarohs 
shut up such of their relations as might endanger their 
safety; allowing them all kinds of luxuries and amuse- 
ments, in the midst of which they passed their lives in 
voluptuous indolence. 

Here the princesses remained, immured from the 
world, but surrounded by enjoyments; and attended by 
female slaves who anticipated their wishes. They had 
delightful gardens for their recreation, filled with the 
rarest fruits and flowers, with aromatic groves and per- 
fumed baths. On three sides the castle looked down 
upon a rich valley, enameled with all kinds of culture, 
and bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra Mountains; on the 
other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea. 

In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate and 
under a cloudless sky, the three princesses grew up into 
wondrous beauty; but, though all reared alike, they gave 
early tokens of diversity of character. Their names 
were Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda; and such was the 
order of seniority, for there had been precisely three 
minutes between their births. 

Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took 
the lead of her sisters in everything, as she had done in 
entering first into the world. She was curious and in- 
quisitive, and fond of getting at the bottom of things. 

Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which was the 
reason, no doubt, of her delighting to regard her own 
image in a mirror or a fountain, and of her fondness for 
flowers and jewels, and other tasteful ornaments. 

As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, 
and extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable 
tenderness, as was evident from her number of pet 
flowers, and pet birds, and pet animals, all of which sh« 
cherished witli the fondest care. Her amusements, too, 
were of a gentle nature, ^.nd mixed up lyith musing and ^ 



94 THE ALHAMBBA. 

reverie. She would sit for hours in a balcony gazing om 
the sparkling stars of a summer night; or on the sea 
when lit up by the moon, and at such times the song of a 
fisherman faintly heard from the beach, or the notes ol 
an arrafia or Moorish flute from some gliding bark, 
sufficed to elevate her feeliugs into ecstasy. The least 
uproar of the elements, however, filled her with dismay, 
and a clap of thunder was enough to throw her into a 
swoon. 

Years moved on serenely, and Cadiga, to whom the 
princesses were confided, was faithful to her trust and 
attended them with unremitting care. 

The castle of Salobrena, as has been said, was builf; 
upon a hill on the seacoast. One of the exterior walls 
straggled down the profile of the hill, until it reached a 
jutting rock overhanging the sea, with a narrow sandy 
beach at its foot, laved by the rippling billows. A small 
watch-tower on this rock had been fitted up as a pavilion 
with latticed windows to admit the sea-breeze. Here the 
princesses used to pass the sultry hours of midday. 

The curious Zayda was one day seated at one of the 
windows of the pavilion, as her sisters, reclined on otto- 
mans, were taking the siesta, or noontide slumber. Her 
attention had been attracted to a galley, which came 
coasting along, with measured strokes of the oar. As it 
drew near she observed that it was filled with armed 
men. The galley anchored at the foot of the tower: a 
number of Moorish soldiers landed on the narrow beach, 
conducting several Christian prisoners. The curious 
Zayda awakened her sisters, and all three peeped cau- 
tiously through the close jalousies of the lattice, which 
screened them from sight. Among the prisoners were 
three Spanish cavaliers, richly dressed. They were in 
the flower of youth, and of noble presence, and the lofty 
manner in which they carried themselves, though loaded 
with chains and surrounded with enemies, bespoke the 
grandeur of their souls. The princesses gazed with in- 
tense and breathless interest. Cooped up as they had 
been in this castle among female attendants, seeing noth- 
ing of the male sex but black slaves, or the rude fisher- 
men of the seacoast, it is not to be wondered at that the 
appearance of three gallant cavaliers in the pride of 
youth and manly beauty should produce some conuuO' 
tion in their bosoms. 



TEREK BEA UTIFUL PFcINCESSES. 95 

*'Did ever nobler being tread the earth than that cava- 
aer in crimson?'' cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters, 
'SSee how proudly he bears himself^ as though all around 
him were his slavesl'^ 

'^But notice that one in green/^ exclaimed Zorayda; 
* 'what grace! what elegance! what spirit!'^ 

The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly 
gave preference to the cavalier in green. 

The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners 
were out of sight; then heaving long-drawn sighs, they 
turned round, looked at each other for a moment, and 
sat down musing and pensive on their ottomans. 

The discreet Cadiga found them in this situation, they 
related to her ^vhat they had seen, and even the withered 
heart"* of the duenna was warmed. ''Poor youths!'^ ex- 
claimed she, "I'll warrant their captivity makes many a 
fair and high-born lady's heart ache in their native land! 
Ah, my children, you have little idea of the life these 
cavaliers lead in their own country. Such prankling at 
tournaments! such devotion to the ladies! such courting 
and serenading!" 

The curiosity of Zayda w^as fully aroused. She was 
insatiable in her inquiries, and drew from the duenna 
the most animated .pictures of the scenes of her youthful 
days and native land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, 
and slyly regarded herself in a mirror, when the theme 
turned upon the charms of the Spanish ladies; while 
Zorahayda suppressed a struggling sigh at the mention 
of moonlight serenades. 

Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries; 
and every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, 
which were listened to with unmoved interest, though 
frequent sighs, by her gentle auditors. The discreet old 
woman at length awakened to the mischief she might be 
doing. She had been accustomed to think of the prin- 
cesses only as children, but they had imperceptibly 
ripened beneath her eye, and now bloomed before her 
three lovely damsels of the marriageable age. It is time, 
thought the duenna, to give notice to the king. 

Mohamed, the left-handed, was seated one morning on 
the divan in one of the court halls of the Alhambra, 
when a noble arrived from the fortress of SalobreQa, with 
a message from the sage Cadiga, congratulating him on 



96 rHE ALHAMBEA. 

the anniversary of his daughters* birthday. The slave at 
the same time presented a delicate little basket decorated 
with flowers, within which, on a conch of vine ax}d fig 
leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and a nectarine, with 
their bloom and down and dewy sweetness upon them, 
and all in the early stage of tempting ripeness. The 
monarch was versed in the Oriental language of fruits 
and flowers, and readily divined the meaning of this em- 
blematical offering. 

'^So,*^ said he, *^the critical period pointed out by the 
astrologers is arrived. My daughters are at a marriage- 
able age. What is to be done? They are shut up from 
the eyes of men, they are under the eye of the discreet 
Cadiga — all very good — but still they are not under my 
own eye, as was prescribed by the astrologers. 'I must 
gather them under my wing, and trust to no other 
guardianship.* ** 

So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra 
should be prej)ared for their reception, and departed at 
the head of his guards for the fortress of Salobrefla, to 
conduct them home in person. 

About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had be- 
held his daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes 
at the wonderful change which that small space of time 
had made in their appearance. During the interval they 
had passed that wondrous boundary line in female life, 
which separates the crude, unformed, and thoughtless 
girl from the blooming, blushing, meditative woman. It 
is like passing from the flat, bleak, uninteresting plains 
of La Manchato the voluptuous valleys and swelling hills 
of Andalusia. 

Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty demeanor 
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and 
decided step, and made a profound reverence to Mo- 
hamed, treating him more as her sovereign than her 
father. Zorayda was of the middle height, with an allur- 
ing look and swimming gait, and a sparkling beauty 
heightened by the assistance of the toilet. She ap- 
proached her father with a smile, kissed his hand, and 
aaluted him with several stanzas from a popular Arabian 
poet, with which the monarch was delighted. Zorahayda 
was shy and timid; smaller than her sisters, and with 9 
beauty of that tender, beseeching kind which looks iot 



THREE BE A UTIFUL PRINCESSES. 97 

fondness and protection. She was little fitted to com- 
mand like her elder sister, or to dazzle like the second; 
but was rather formed to creep to the bosom of manly 
affection, to nestle within it, and be content. She drew 
near her father with a timid and almost faltering step, 
and would have taken his hand to kiss, but on looking 
up into his face, and seeing it beaming with a paternal 
smile, the tenderness of her nature broke forth, and she 
threw herself upon his neck. 

Mohamed, the left-handed, surveyed his blooming 
daughters with mingled pride and perplexity; for while 
he exulted in their charms, he bethought himself of the 
prediction of the astrologers. ^^Three daughters! three 
daughters!'^ muttered he repeatedly to himself, '^and 
all of a marriageable age! Here's tempting hesperian 
fruit, that requires a dragon watch !'^ 

He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending 
heralds before him, commanding every one to keep out 
of the road by which he was to pass, and that all 
doors and windows should be closed at the approach of 
the princesses. This done, he set forth escorted by a 
troop of black horsemen of hideous aspect, and clad in 
shining armor. 

The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on 
beautiful white palfreys, with velvet caparisons em- 
broidered with gold, and sweeping the ground; the bits 
and stirrups were of gold, and the silken bridles adorned 
with pearls and precious stones. The palfreys were cov- 
ered with little silver bells that made the most musical 
tinkling as they ambled gently along. Woe to the un- 
lucky wight, however, who lingered in the way when he 
heard the tinkling of these bells — the guards were 
ordered to cut him down without mercy. 

The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it 
overtook, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body 
of Moorish soldiers, with a convoy of prisoners. It was 
too late for the soldiers to get out of the way, so they 
threw themselves on their faces on the earth, ordering 
their captives to do the like. Among the prisoners were 
the three identical cavaliers whom the princesses had 
seen from the pavilion. They either did not understand 
or were too haughty to obey the order, and remained 
standing and gazing upon the Q^ivalcade as it approached. 



98 TEE ALEAMBRA. 

The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant 
defiance of his orders, and he determined to punish it 
with his own hand. Drawing his scimitar and pressing 
forward he was about to deal a left-handed blow, that 
would have been fatal to at least one of the gazers, when 
the princesses crowded round him, and implored mercy 
for the prisoners; even the timid Zorahayda forgot her 
shyness and became eloquent in their behalf, Mohamed 
paused, with uplifted scimitar, when the captain of the 
guard threw himself at his feet. ^'Letnot yourmajesty,^^ 
said he, ^^do a deed that may cause great scandal through- 
out the kingdom. These are three brave and noble 
Spanish knights who have been taken in battle, fighting 
like lions; they are of high birth, and may bring great 
ransoms.^^ ^ 

^'Enough,^^ said the king; *^I will spare their lives, 
but punish their audacity — let them be taken to the 
Vermilion towers and put to hard labor/^ 

Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed 
blunders. In the tumult and agitation of this blustering 
scene the veils of the three princesses had been thrown 
back, and the radiance of their beauty revealed; and in 
prolonging the parley the king had given that beauty 
time to have its full effect. In those days people fell in 
love much more suddenly than at present, as all ancient 
stories make manifest; it is not a matter of wonder, 
therefore, that the hearts of the three cavaliers were 
completely captivated, especially as gratitude was added 
to their admiration : it is a little singular, however, though 
no less certain, that each of them was enraptured with a 
several beauty. As to the princesses, they were more 
than ever struck with the noble demeanor of the cap- 
tives, and cherished in their hearts all that they had 
heard of their valor and noble lineage. 

The cavalcade resumed its march; the three princesses 
rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and 
then stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian ' 
captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted 
prison in the Vermilion towers. 

The residence provided for the princesses was one of 
the most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a 
tov/er somewhat apart from the main palace of the Al- 
liambra, though connected with it by the main wall that 



I 



THREE BEA UTIFVL PRINCESSES. 99 

eucircled the whole summit of the hill. On one side it 
looked into the interior of the fortress, and had at its 
foot a small garden filled with the rarest flowers. On 
the other side it overlooked a deep embowered ravine, 
that separated the grounds of the Alhambra from those 
of the Generaliffe. The interior of the tower was divided 
into small fairy apartments, beautifully ornamented in 
the light Arabian style, surrounding a lofty hall, the 
vaulted roof of which rose almost to the summit of the 
tower. The walls and ceiling of the hall were adorned 
with arabesques and fretwork sparkling with gold, and 
with brilliant penciling. In the center of the marble 
pavement was an alabaster fountain, set round with 
aromatic shrubs and flowers, and throwing up a jet of 
watdr that cooled the whole edifice and had a lulling 
sound. Eound the hall were suspended cages of gold 
and silver wire, containing singing birds of the finest 
plumage or sweetest note. 

The princesses having been represented as always cheer- 
ful when in the castle of Salobrefia, the king had ex- 
pected to see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To 
his surprise, however, they began to pine, and grew 
green and melancholy, and dissatisfied with everything 
around them. The floAvers yielded them no fragrance; 
the song of the nightingale disturbed their night^s rest, 
and they were out of all patience with the alabaster 
fountain, with its eternal drop, drop, and splash, splash, 
from morning till night, and from night till morning. 

The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical old 
man, took this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected 
that his daughters had arrived at an age when the female 
mind expands and its desires augment. ''They are no 
longer children,^^ said he to himself; ''they are women, 
grown, and require suitable objects to interest them. ^' , 

He put in requisition, therefore, all the dressmakers, 
and the jewelers, and the artificers in gold and silver 
throughout the Zacatin of Granada, and the princesses 
were overwhelmed with robes of silk and of tissue and 
of brocade, and cashmere shawls, and necklaces of 
pearls, and diamonds, and rings and bracelets, and 
anklets, and all manner of precious things. 

All, however, was of no avail. The princesses con* 
tinned palo and languid in the midst of their finery, and 



lOe ' THE ALHAMBRA. 



looked like three blighted rosebuds, drooping from one 
stalk. The king was at his wit's end. He had in gen- 
eral a laudable confidence in his own judgment, and 
never took advice. *'The whims and caprices of three 
marriageable damsels, however, are sufficient,^* said he, 
'^to puzzle the shrewdest head.'* So, for once in his 
life, he called in the aid of counsel. 

The person to whom he applied was the experienced 
duenna. 

^^Cadiga,** said the king, *^I know you to be one of the 
most discreet women in the whole world, as well as one 
of the most trustworthy; for these reasons I have always 
continued you about the persons of my daughters. 
Fathers cannot be too wary in whom they repose such 
confidence. I now wish you to find out the secret m&lady 
that is preying upon the princesses, and to devise some 
means of restoring them to health and cheerfulness.** 

Cadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact, she knew 
more of the malady of the princesses than they did 
themselves. Shutting herself up with them, however, 
she endeavored to insinuate herself into their confidence. 

^'My dear children, what is the reason you are so dis- 
mal and downcast, in so beautiful a place, where you 
have everything that heart can wish?** 

The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, 
and sighed. 

'*What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you 
the wonderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the 
delight of Granada?'* 

''Odious!** exclaimed the Princess Zayda. *'A horrid 
screaming bird that chatters words without ideas! One 
must be without brains to tolerate such a pest.** 

* 'Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, 
to divert you with his antics?'* 

* "A monkey! faugh!" cried Zorayda, *'the detestable 
mimic of man. I hate the nauseous animal.'* 

''What say you to the famous black singer, Casem, 
from the royal harem in Morocco. They say he has a 
voice as fine as a woman's,'* 

"1 am terrified at the sight of these black slaves,'* said 
the delicate Zorahayda; '^besides, I have lost all relish 
for music." 

"Ah, my child, you would not say so,'* replied tho old 



^ 



THREE BEA UTIPUL FRINCE88£lB. lOl 

woman slyly, ^^had you heard the music I heard last 
evening, from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met 
on our Journey. But bless me, children! what is the 
matter that you blush so and are in such a fiutter?'^ 

^'Nothing, nothing, good mother, pray proceed/^ 

*'Well — as I was passing by the Vermilion towers last 
evening, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day's 
labor. One was playing on the guitar so gracefully, and 
the others sang by turns — and they did it in such style 
that the very guards seemed like statues or men en- 
chanted. Allah forgive me, I could not help being moved 
at hearing the songs of my native country. And then to 
see three such noble and handsome youths in chains and 
slavery!'^ 

K'cre the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain 
her tears. 

'Terhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a 
sight of these cavaliers,'^ said Zayda. 

^*I think,'* said Zorayda, ^'a little music would be quite 
reviving." 

The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw her arms 
round the neck of Oadiga. 

"Mercy on me!'' exclaimed the discreet old woman; 
**what are you talking of, my children? Your father 
would be the death of us all if he heard of such a thing. 
To be sure, these cavaliers are evidently well-bred and 
high-minded youths — but what of that! they are the 
enemies of our faith, and you must not even think of 
them, but with abhorrence.'* 

There is an admirable intrepidity in the female will, 
particularly about the marriageable age, which is not to 
be deterred by dangers and prohibitions. The princesses 
hung round their old duenna, and coaxed and entreated, 
and declared that a refusal would break their hearts. 
What could she do? She was certainly the most discreet 
old woman in the whole world, and one of the most 
faithful servants to the king — but was she to see three 
beautiful princesses break their hearts for the mere 
tinkling of a guitar? Besides, though she had been so 
long among the Moors, and changed her faith, in imita- 
tion of her mistress, like a trusty follower, yet she was a 
Spaniard born, and had the lingerings of Christianity in 



102 TEE A LHA MBRA . 

her heart. So she set about to contrive how the wishes 
of the princesses might be gratified. 

The Christian captives confined in the Vermilion 
towers were under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad- 
shouldered renegado, called Hussein Baba, who was re- 
ported to have a most itching palm. She went to him 
privately, and slipping a broad piece of gold into his 
hand, ^'Hussein Baba/' said she, ^'my mistresses, the 
three princesses, who are shut up in the tower and in 
sad want of amusement, have heard of the musical talents 
of the three Spanish cavaliers and are desirous of hear- 
ing a specimen of their skill. 1 am sure you are too 
kind-hearted to refuse them so innocent a gratification.^' 

^'What, and to have my head set grinning over the 
gate of my own tower — for that would iDe the rewarcf, if 
the king should discover it.'' 

'^No danger of anything of the kind; the affair may be 
managed so that the whim of the princesses may be 
gratified, and their father be never the wiser. You know 
the deep ravine outside of the walls, that passes imme- 
diately below the tower. Put the three Christians to 
work there, and at the intervals of their labor let them 
play and sing, as if for their own recreation. In this 
way the princesses will be able to hear them from the 
windows of the tower, and you may be sure of their 
paying well for your compliance." 

As the good old woman concluded her harangue she 
kindly pressed the rough hand of the renegado, and left 
within it another piece of gold. 

Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the 
three cavaliers were put to work in the ravine. During 
the noontide heat when their fellow laborers were sleep- 
ing iia the shade, and the guard nodded drowsily at his 
post, they seated themselves among the herbage at the 
foot of the tower and sang a Spanish rondelay to the 
accompaniment of the guitar. 

The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their 
voices rose distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. 
The princesses listened from their balcony; they had 
been taught the Spanish language by their duenna, and 
were moved by the tenderness of the song. 

Tne discreet Cadiga, on the contrary, w^s terribly 
shocked. *'Allah preserve us," cried she, ''they ar« 




THREE BEA UTIFUL PRINCESSES, 103 

singing a love ditty addressed to yourselves — did ever 
mortal hear of such audacity? I will run to the slave 
master and have them soundly bastinadoed/^ 

*'What, bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for sing- 
ing so charmingly?'^ The three beautiful princesses 
were filled with horror at the idea. With all her virtu- 
ous indignation, the good old woman was of a placable 
nature and easily appeased. Besides, the music seemed 
to have a beneficial effect upon her young mistresses. A 
rosy bloom had already come to their cheeks, and their 
eyes began to sparkle. She made no further objecticr 
therefore, to the amorous ditty of the cavaliers. 

When it was finished the princesses remained silent 
for a time; at length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a 
ST, 'et, though faint and trembling voice, warbled a little 
Arabian air, the burden of which was, ''The rose is con- 
cealed among her leaves, but she listens with delight to 
the song of the nightingale.'' 

From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost 
daily in the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba be- 
came more and more indulgent, and daily more prone to 
sleep at his post. For some time a vague intercourse 
was kept up by popular songs and romances, which in 
some measure responded to each other, and breathed the 
feelings of the parties. By degrees the princesses 
showed themselves at the balcony, when they could do 
so without being perceived by the guards. They con- 
versed with the cavaliers also by means of flowers, with 
the symbolical language of which they were mutually 
acquainted: the difficulties of their intercourse added to 
its charms and strengthened the passion they had so 
singularly conceived; for love delights to struggle with 
difficulties, and thrives the most hardily on the scantiest 
soil. 

The change effected in the looks and spirits of the 
princesses by this secret intercourse surprised and grati- 
fied the left-handed king; butnoone was more elated than 
the discreet Cadiga, who considered it all owing to her 
able management. 

At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic 
correspondence; for several days the cavaliers ceased to 
make their appearance in the glen. The three beautiful 
princesses looked out from the tower in vain. In vaia 



104 THE ALHAMBBA. 

they stretched their swan-like necks from the balcony; 
in vain they sang like captive nightingales in their cage; 
nothing was to be seen of their Christian lovers, not a 
note responded from the groves. The discreet Cadiga 
sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and soon returned 
with a face full of trouble. ^'Ah, my children !^^ cried 
she, *'I saw what all this would come to, but you would 
have your way; you may now hang up your lutes on the 
willows. The Spanish cavaliers are ransomed by their 
families; they are down in Granada, and preparing to 
return to their native country.^' 

The three beautiful princesses were in despair at the 
tidings. The fair Zayda was indignant at the slight 
put upon them, in being thus deserted without a parting 
word. Zorayda wrung her hands and cried, and looked in 
the glass, and wiped away her tears and cried afresh. 
The gentle Zorahayda leaned over the balcony and wept 
in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop among the 
flowers of the bank where the faithless cavaliers had so 
often been seated. 

The discreet Cadiga did all in her power to soothe their 
sorrow. "Take comfort, my children, ^^ said she, *Hhis 
is nothing when you are used to it. This is the way of 
the world. Ah, when you are as old as I am you will 
know how to value these men. 1^11 warrant these cava- 
liers have their loves among the Spanish beauties of Cor- 
dova and Seville, and will soon be serenading under their 
balconies, and thinking no more of the Moorish beauties 
in the Alhambra. Take comfort, therefore, my children, 
and drive them from your hearts.'^ 

The comforting words of the discreet Cadiga only re- 
doubled the distress of the princesses, and for two days 
they continued inconsolable. On the morning of the 
tJurd the good old woman entered their apartment all 
riffling with indignation. 

''Who would have believed such insolence in mortal 
man?" exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to 
express herself; "but I am rightly served for having 
connived at this deception of your worthy father — never 
talk more to me of your Spanish cavaliers." 

*'Why, what has happened, good Cadiga?" exclaimed 
the princesses, in breathless anxiety. 

'^Wh^t has happened? treason hasf ha-ppened! — or what 



TEHEE BEA UTIFUL PRINCESSES. 105 

is almost as bad, treason has been proposed — and to me 
—the faithfulest of subjects — the trustiest of duennas — 
yes, my children — the Spanish cavaliers have dared to 
tamper wifch me; that I should persuade you to fly with 
them to Cordova, and become their wives/' 

Here the excellent old woman covered her face with 
her hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and 
indignation. 

The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red^ 
and trembled, and looked down, and cast shy looks at 
each, other, but said nothing: meantime, the old woman 
sat rocking backward and forward in violent agitation, 
and now and then breaking out into exclamations — ''That 
ever I should live to be so insulted — I, the faithfulest of 
servants!'^ 

At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit, and 
always took the lead, approached her, and laying her 
hand upon her shoulder — ''Well, mother,^' said she, 
"supposing we were willing to fly with these Christian 
cavaliers — is such a thing possible ?'' 

The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, 
and looking up — "Possible':^' echoed she, "to be sure it 
is possible. Have not the cavaliers already bribed Hus- 
sein Baba, the renegado captain of the guard, and 
arranged the whole plan? But then to think of deceiv- 
ing your father — your father, who has placed such confi- 
dence in me?'^ 

Here the worthy old woman gave way to a fresh burst 
of grief, and began again to rock backward and for- 
ward, and to wring her hands. 

"But our father has never placed any confidence in 
us,'* said the eldest princess; "but has trusted to bolts 
and bars, and treated us as captives.'^ 

"Why, that is true enough, '^ replied the old woman, 
again pausing in her grief. "He has indeed treated you 
most unreasonably. Keeping you shut up here to waste 
your bloom in a moping old tower, like roses left to 
wither in a flower jar. But then to fly from your native 
land?'' 

"And is not the land we fly to the native land of our 
mother, where we shall live in freedom? and shall we 
not each have a youthful husband in exchange for a 
aevero old father?"' 



106 THE AUIAMBRA, 

*'Why, that again is all very true— and your father, < 
must confess, is rather tyrannical. But what then'^-r 
relapsing into her grief—^'Svould you leave me behind Ui 
bear the brunt of his vengeance ?'' 

''By no means, my good Cadiga. Cannot you fly 
with us?'' 

"Very true, my child, and to tell the truth, when \ 
talked the matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised 
to take care of me if I would accompany you in your 
flight; but then, bethink you, my children; are you will- 
ing to renounce the faith of your father?'' 

"The Christian faith was the original faith of our 
mother," said the eldest princess; "I am ready to em- 
brace it; and so I am sure are my sisters." 

"Right again!" exclaimed the old woman, brightening 
up. "It was the original faith of your mother; and bit- 
terly did she lament, on her deathbed, that she had 
renounced it. I promised her then to take care of your 
souls, and I am rejoiced to see that they are now in a 
fair way to be saved. Yes, my children; I too was born 
a Christian — and have always been a Christian in my 
heart; and am resolved to return to the faith. I have 
talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a 
Spaniard by birth, and comes from a place not far from 
my native town. He is equally anxious to see his own 
country and to be reconciled to the church, and the 
cavaliers have promised that if we are disposed to become 
man and wife on returning to our native land, they will 
provide for us handsomely." 

In a word, it appeared that this extremely discreet and 
provident old woman had consulted Avith the cavaliers 
and the renegado, and had concerted the whole plan of 
escape. The eldest princess immediately assented to it, 
and her example as usual determined the conduct of her 
sisters. It is true, the youngest hesitated, for she was 
gentle and timid of soul, and there was a struggle in her 
bosom between lilial feeling and youthful passion. The 
latter, however, as usual, gained the victory, and with 
silent tears and stifled sighs she prepared herself for 
flight. 

The rugged hill on which the Alhambra is built was 
in old times perforated with subterranean passages, cut 
through the rock, and leading from the fortress to 



THREE BEA UTIFUL PUmOESSES. 107 

various parts of the city, and to distant sallv-ports on the 
banks of the Darro and the Xenil. They had been con- 
structed at different times, by the Moorish kings, aa 
means of escape from sudden insurrection, or of secretly 
issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of them are 
now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked up 
with rubbish, and partly walled up — monuments of the 
jealous precautions and warlike stratagems of the Moor- 
ish government. By ono of these passages Hussein Baba 
had undertaken to conduct the princesses to a sally-port 
beyond the walls of the city, where the cavaliers were to 
be ready with fleet steeds to bear them all over the 
borders. 

The appointed night arrived. The tower of the prin- 
cessos had been locked up as usual, and the Alhambra 
was buried in deep sleep. Toward midnight the dis- 
creet Cadiga listened from a balcony of a window that 
looked into the garden. Hussein Baba, the renegade, 
was already below, and gave the appointed signal. The 
duenna fastened the end of a ladder of ropes to the bal- 
cony, lowered it into the garden, and descended. The 
two eldest princesses followed her with beating hearts; 
but when it came to the turn of the youngest princess, 
Zorahayda, she hesitated and trembled. Several times 
she ventured a delicate little foot upon the ladder, and 
as often drew it back; while her poor little heart fluttered 
more and more the longer she delayed. She cast a wist- 
ful look back into the silken chamber; she had lived in 
it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage, but within it she was 
secure — who could not tell what dangers might beset her 
should she flutter forth into the wide world? Now she 
bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and her 
little foot was instantly upon the ladder, and anon she 
thought of her father, and shrank back. But fruitless is 
the attempt to describe the conflict in the bosom of one 
so young, and tender, and loving, but so timid and so 
ignorant of the world. In vain her sisters implored, the 
duenna scolded, and the renegado blasphemed beneath 
the balcony. The gentle little Moorish maid stood 
doubting and wavering on the verge of elopement, 
tempted by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its 
perils. 

Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A 



108 THE ALHAMBIiA. 

distant tramp was heard. '*The patrols are walking the 
rounds/' cried the renegade; 'Mf we linger longer W9 
perish — princess, descend instantly, or we leave you.'^ 

Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation, then 
loosening the ladder of ropes with desperate resolution 
she flung it from the balcony. 

*'It is decided,'^ cried she", ^'flight is now out of my 
power! Allah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters!'* 

The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts 
of leaving her behind, and would fain have lingered, but 
the patrol was advancing; the renegado was furious, and 
they were hurried away to the subterraneous passage. 
They groped their way through a fearful labyrinth cut 
through the heart of the mountain, and succeeded in 
reaching, undiscovered, an iron gate that opened outside 
of the walls. The Spanish cavaliers were waiting to 
receive them, disguised as Moorish soldiers of the guard 
commanded l3y the renegado. 

The lover of Zorahayda w^as frantic when he learned 
that she had refused to leave the tower; but there was 
no time to waste in lamentations. The two princessep. 
were placed behind their lovers; the discreet Cadiga 
mounted behind the renegado, and all set off at a round 
pace in the direction of the pass of Lop6, which leads 
through the mountains toward Cordova. 

They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise 
of drums and trumpets from the battlements of the Al- 
hambra. ''Our flight is discovered,*' said the renegado. 
**We have fleet steeds, the night is dark, and we may 
distance all pursuit,'* replied the cavaliers. 

They put spurs to their horses and scoured across the 
Vega. They attained to the foot of the mountain of 
Elvira, which stretches like a promontory into the plain. 
The renegado paused and listened. ''As yet," said he, 
"there is no one on our traces, we shall make good our 
escape to the mountains." While he spoke a ball of fire 
sprang up in a light blaze on the top of the watch- 
tower of the Alhambra. 

"Confusion!" cried the renegado, *'that fire will put 
all the guards of the passes on the alert. Away, away, 
spur like mad; there is no time to be lost.*' 

Away they dashed — the clattering of their horses' 
hoofs echoed from rock to rock as they swept along thoi 



THREE BEA UTIFUL PRmCESSES. 109 

road that skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they 
galloped on they beheld that the ball of fire of the Al- 
hainbrawas answered in every direction; light afterlight 
blazed on the atalayas or watch-tower's of the mountains. 

**Forward! forward!'^ cried the renegado, with many 
an oath — 'Ho the bridge! to the bridge! before the alarm 
has reached there/^ 

They doubled the promontory of the mountain, and 
arrived in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos, that 
crosses a rushing stream often dyed with Christian and 
Moslem blood. To their confusion the tower on the 
bridge blazed with lights and glittered with armed men. 
The renegado pulled up his steed, rose in his stirrups 
and looked about him for a moment, then beckoning to 
the cavaliers he struck off from the road, skirted the river 
for some distaiice, and dashed into its waters. The 
cavaliers called upon the princesses to cling to them, and 
did the same. They were borne for some distance down 
the rapid current, the surges roared round them, but the 
beautiful princesses clung to their Christian knights and 
never uttered a complaint. The cavaliers attained the 
opposite bank in safety, and were conducted by the 
renegado, by rude and unfrequented paths, and wild 
barrancos through the heart of the mountains, so as to 
avoid all the regular passes. In a word, they succeeded 
in reaching the ancient city of Cordova, when their res- 
toration to their country and friends was celebrated 
with great rejoicings, for they were of the noblest fami- 
ies. The beautiful princesses were forthwith received 
into the bosom of the church, and after being in all due 
form made regular Christians were rendered happy lovers. 

In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses 
across the river and up the mountains, we forgot to men- 
tion the fate of the discreet Cadiga. She had clung like 
a eat to Hussein Baba, in the scamper across the Vega, 
screaming at every bound and drawing many an oath 
from the whiskered renegado; but when he prepared to 
plunge his steed into the river her terror knew no bounds. 

*'Grasp me not so tightly," cried Hussein Baba; **hold 
on by my belt, and fear nothing." 

She held firmly with both hands by the leathern belt 
that girded the broad-backed renegado; bat when he 
halted with the cavaliers to take breath on the mountain 
summit, the duenna was no longer to be seen* 



110 THE ALHAMBBA, 

**What has become of Cadiga?'' cried the princesses \it 
alarm. 

'*I know not/' replied the renegado. ''My belt cam* 
loose in the midst of the river, and Oadiga was swept 
with it down the stream. The will of Allah be done!- • 
but it was an embroidered belt and of great price!'' 

There was no time to waste in idle reports, yet bitterly 
did the princesses bewail the loss of their faithful and 
discreet counselor. That excellent old woman, how- 
ever, did not lose more than half of her nine lives in the 
stream. A fisherman who was drawing his nets some 
distance down the stream brought her to land and was 
not a little astonished at his miraculous draught. What 
further became of the discreet Oadiga, the legend does 
not mention. Certain it is that she evinced her discre- 
tion in never venturing within the reach of Mohamed, 
the left-handed. 

Almost as little is known of the conduct of that saga- 
cious monarch when he discovered the escape of his 
daughters and the deceit practiced upon him by the most 
faithful of servants. It was the only instance in which 
he had called in the aid of counsel, and he was never 
afterward known to be guilty of a similar weakness. He 
took good care, however, to guard his remaining daughter, 
who had no disposition to elope. It is thought, indeed, 
that she secretly repented having remained behind. 
Now and then she was seen leaning on the battlements 
of the tower and looking mournfully toward the moun- 
tains in the direction of Cordova; and sometimes the 
notes of her lute were heard accompanying plaintive 
ditties in which she was said to lament the loss of her 
sisters and her lover, and to bewail her solitary life. She 
died young and, according to popular rumor, was buried 
in a vault beneath the tower, and her untimely fate has 
given rise to more than one traditionary fable. 

LOCAL TKADITIOKS. 

The common people of Spain have an Oriental passion 
for story-telling and are fond of the marvelous. They 
will gather round the doors of their cottages on summer 
evenings, or in the great cavernous chimney corners of 
their ventas in the winter, and listen with insatiable de- 



THREE BEA UTIFUL PBINCESSE^. HI 

light to miraculous legends of saints^ perilous adventures 
of travelers^ and daring exploits of robbers and contra- 
bandistas. The wild and solitary nature of a ffreat part 
of Spain; the imperfect state of knowledge; the scanti- 
ness of general topics of conversation, and the romantic, 
adventurous life that every one leads in a land where 
traveling is yet in its primitive state, all contribute to 
cherish this love of oral narration and to produce a 
strong expression of the extravagant and wonderful. 
There is no theme, however, more prevalent or popular 
than that of treasures buried by the Moors. It pervades 
the whole country. In traversing the wild Sierras, the 
scenes of ancient prey and exploit, you cannot see a 
Moorish atalaya or watch-tower perched among the cliffs, 
or beetling above its rock-built village, but your mule- 
teer, on being closely questioned, will suspend the smok- 
ing of his cigarilloto tell some tale of Moslem gold buried 
beneath its foundations; nor is there a ruined alcazar in 
a city but has its golden tradition, handed down, from 
generation to generation, among the poor people of the 
neighborhood. 

These, like most popular fictions, have had some 
groundwork in fact. During the wars between Moor and 
Christian, which distracted the country for centuries, 
towns and castles were liable frequently and suddenly to 
change owners; and the inhabitants, during sieges and 
assaults, were fain to bury their money and jewels in the 
earth, or hide them in vaults and wells, as is often done 
at the present day in the despotic and belligerent coun- 
tries of the East. At the time of the expulsion of the 
Moors, also, many of them concealed their most precious 
effects, hoping that their exile would be but temporary 
and that they would be enabled to return and retrieve 
their treasures at some future day. It is certain that, 
from time to time, hoards of gold and silver coin have 
been accidentally digged up, after a lapse of centuries, 
from among the ruins of Moorish fortresses and habita- 
tions, and it requires but a few facts of the kind to give 
birth to a thousand fictions. 

The stories thus originating have generally something 
of an Oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture 
of the Arabic and Gothic which seems to me to charac- 
terize everything in Spain; and especially in its southern 



112 THE ALHAMBRA. 



provinces. The hidden wealth is always laid unde 
magic spell, and secured by charm and talism.an. Some- 
times it is guarded by uncouth monsters, or fiery dragons; 
sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit by it in armor, 
with drawn swords, but motionless as statues, maintain- 
ing a sleepless watch for ages. 

The Alhambra, of course, from the peculiar circum- 
stances of its history, is a stronghold for popular fictions 
of the kind, and curious reliques, dug up from time to 
time, have contributed to strengthen them. At one 
time an earthen vessel was found containing Moorish 
coins and the skeleton of a cock, which, according to the 
opinion of shrewd inspectors, must have been buried 
alive. At another time a vessel was digged up, contain- 
ing a great scarabaeus, or beetle, of baked clay, covered 
with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a pro- 
digious amulet of occult virtues.. In this way the wits' 
of the ragged brood who inhabit the Alhambra have been 
set wool gathering, until there is not a hall, or tower, or 
vault of the old fortress that has not been made the 
scene of some marvelous tradition. 

I have already given brief notices of some related to 
me by the authentic Mateo Ximenes, and now subjoin 
one wrought out from various particulars gathered among 
the gossips of the fortress. 



^ 



LEGEND OF THE MOOK'S LEGACY. 

Just within the fortress of the Alhambra, in front of 
the royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the 
place or square of the cisterns (la plaza de los algibes), so 
called from being undermined by reservoirs of water 
hidden from sight, and which have existed from the time 
of the Moors. At one corner of this esplanade is a 
Moorish well, cut through the living rock to a great 
depth, the water of which is cold as ice and clear as 
crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in re- 
pute, for it is well known what pains they took to pene- 
trate to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. 
The one we are speaking of is famous throughout Gra- 
nada, insomuch that the water-carriers, some bearing 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 113 

great water-jars on their shoulders, others driving asses 
before them, laden with earthen vessels, are ascending 
and descending the steep woody avenues of the Alham- 
bra from early dawn until a late hour of the night. 

Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, 
have been noted gossiping places in hot climates, and at 
the well in question there is a kind of perpetual club 
kept' up during the livelong day, by the invalids, old 
women, and other curious, do-nothing folk of the for- 
tress, who sit here on the stone benches under an awning 
spread over the well to shelter the toll-gatherer from the 
sun, and dawdle over the gossip of the fortress, and 
question any water-carrier that arrives about the news of 
the city, and make long comments on everything they 
hear and see. Not an hour of the day but loitering 
housewives and idle maid-servants may be seen lingering 
with pitcher on head or in hand, to hear the last of the 
endless tattle of these worthies. 

Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this 
well there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged 
little fellow, named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for 
shortness. Being a water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or 
native of Gallicia, of course. Nature seems to have 
formed races of men as she has of animals for different 
kinds of drudgery. In Prance the shoeblacks are all 
Savoyards, the porters of hotels all Swiss, and in the 
days of hoops and hair powder in England, no man 
could give the regular swing to a sedan chair but a bog- 
trotting Irishman. So in Spain the carriers of water 
and bearers of burdens are all sturdy little natives of 
Gallicia. No man says, ^'get me a porter,'' but, '*call a 
Gallego." 

To return from this digression. Peregil the Gallego 
had begun business with merely a great earthen jar, 
which he carried upon his shoulder; by degrees he rose 
in the world and was enabled to purchase an assistant 
of a correspondent class of animals, being a stout shaggy- 
haired donkey. On each side of this his long-eared aid- 
de-camp, in a kind of pannier, were slung his water-jars 
covered with fig leaves to protect them from the sun. 
There was not a more industrious water-carrier in all 
Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang 
with his cheer|ul voice as he trudged after his dpnkey. 



114 THE ALHAMBRA. 

singing foith the usual summer note that resounds 
through the Spanish tow^nSy^'quien quiere agua in agua^nas 
fria que la nieve. Who wants water — water colder than 
snow — who wants water from the well of the Alhambra — 
cold as ice and clear as crystal ?^^ When he served a 
customer with a sparkling glass, it was always with a 
pleasant word that caused a smile, and if, perchance, it 
was a comely dame or dimpling damsel, it was always 
with a sly leer and a compliment to her beauty that was 
irresistible. Thus Peregil the Gallego was noted 
throughout all Granada for being one of the civilest, 
pleasantest, and happiest of mortals. Yet it is not he 
who sings loudest and jokes most that has the lightest 
heart. Under all this air of merriment, honest Peregil 
had his cares and troubles. He had a large family of 
ragged children to support, who were hungry and clamor- 
ous as a nest of young swallows, and beset him with 
their outcries for food whenever he came home of an 
evening. He had a helpmate too who was anything but 
a help to him. She had been a village beauty before 
marriage, noted for her skill in dancing the bolero and 
rattling the castanets, and she still retained her early 
propensities, spending the hard earnings of honest Pere- 
gil in frippery, and laying the very donkey under requisi- 
tion for junketing parties into the country on Sundays 
and saints' days, and those innummerable holidays 
which are rather more numerous in Spain than the days 
of the week. With all this she was a little of a slattern, 
something more of a lie-a-bed, and, above all, a gossip of 
the first water; neglecting house, household and every- 
thing else, to loiter slipshod in the houses of her gossip 
neighbors. 

He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, 
accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive 
neck. Peregil bore all the heavy dispensations of wife 
and children with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore 
the water-jars; and however he might shake his ears in 
private, never ventured to question the household virtues 
of his slattern spouse. 

He loved his children too, even as an owl loves its 
nvlets, seeing in them his own image multiplied and 
Perpetuated, for they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy- 
legged iittle brood. The great pleasure of honest Pere- 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 115 

gil was, whenever he could afford himself a scanty holi- 
day and had a handful of maravedies to spare, to take 
the whole litter forth with him, some in his arms, some 
tugging at his skirts, and some trudging at his heels, and 
to treat them to a gambol among the orchards of the 
Vega, while his wife was dancing with her holiday 
friends in the Angosturas of the Darro. 

It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the 
water-carriers had desisted from their toils. The day 
had been uncommonly sultry; the night was one of those 
delicious moonlights, which tempt the inhabitant of 
those southern climes to indemnify themselves for the 
heat and inaction of the day, by lingering in the open 
air and enjoying its tempered sweetness until after mid- 
night. Customers for water were therefore still abroad. 
Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking little father, 
thought of his hungry children. ^^One more journey to 
the well,'^ said he to himself, ^Ho earn a good Sunday's 
puchero for the little ones." So saying, he trudged 
rapidly up the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as 
he went, and now and then bestowing a hearty thwack 
with a cudgel on the flanks of his donkey, either by way 
of cadence to the song or refreshment to the animal; 
for dry blows serve in lieu for provender in Spain, for all 
beasts of burden. 

When arrived at the well he found it deserted by 
^very one except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, 
seated on the stone bench in the moonlight. Peregil 
paused at first and regarded him with surprise, not un- 
mixed with awe, but the Moor feebly beckoned him to 
approach. 

'^I am faint and ill,'' said he; ^'aid me to return to the 
city, and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain 
by thy jars of water." ^ 

The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched 
with compassion at the appeal of the stranger. *^God 
forbid," said he, '^that I should ask fee or reward for 
doing a common act of humanity." 

He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, and 
set off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so 
weak that it was necessary to hold him on the animal to 
keep him from falling to tne earth. 

When they entered the city the water-carrier de- 



116 TEE ALEAMBRA. 

manded whither he should conduct him. "Alas!'* said 
the Moor faintly, "I have neither home nor habitation. 
I am a stranger in the land. Suffer me to lay my head 
this night beneath thy roof, and thou shall be amply 
repaid. '* 

Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled 
with an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a 
night's shelter to a fellow being in so forlorn a plight; 
so he conducted the Moor to his dwelling. The children, 
who had sallied forth, open-mouthed as usual, on hear- 
ing the tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright 
when they beheld the turbaned stranger, and hid them- 
selves behind their mother. The latter stepped forth 
intrepidly, like a ruflEiing hen before her brood, when a 
vagrant dog approaches. 

*'What infidel companion,'' cried she, "is this you 
have brought home at this late hour to draw upon us the 
eyes of the Inquisition?" 

"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego; "here is a poor 
sick stranger, without friend or home; wouldst thou 
turn him forth to perish in the streets?" 

The wife would still have remonstrated, for, though 
she lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the 
credit of her house; the little water-carrier, however, for 
once was stiff-necked, and refused to bend beneath the 
yoke. He assisted the poor Moslem to alight, and 
spread a mat and a sheepskin for him, on the ground, in 
the coolest part of the house; being the only kind of bed 
that his poverty afforded. 

In a little while the Moor was seized with violent con- 
vulsions, which defied all the ministering skill of the 
simple water-carrier. The eye of the poor patient 
acknowledged his kindness. During an interval of his 
fits he called him to his side, and addressing him in a 
low voice: "My end," said he, "I fear is at hand. If 
I die I bequeath you this box as a reward for your char- 
ity." So saying, he opened his albornoz, or cloak, and 
showed a small box of sandalwood, strapped round his 
body. 

"God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little 
Gallego, "that you may live many years to enjoy your 
treasure, whatever it may be." 

The Moor shook his head; ho laid his hand upon the 



LEQEFD OF THE MOOR'S LEG ACT. 117 

box^ and would have said something more concerning it, 
but his convulsions returned with increased violence, and 
in a little while he expired. 

The water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. 
''This comes/" said she, ''of your foolish good nature, 
always running into scrapes to oblige others. What will 
become of us when this corpse is found in our house? 
We shall be sent to prison as murderers; and if we escape 
with our lives, shall be ruined by notaries and alguazils.'^ 

Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost re- 
pented himself of having done a good deed. At length 
a thought struck him. "It is not yet day,'' said he. "I 
can convey the dead body out of the city and bury it in 
the sands on the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the 
Moor enter our dwelling, and no one will know anything 
of his death." So said, so done. The wife aided him: 
they rolled the body of the unfortunate Moslem in the 
mat on which he had expired, laid it across the ass, and 
Mattias set out with it for the banks of the river. 

As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the 
water-carrier a barber, named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of 
the most prying, tattling, mischief-making of his gossip 
tribe. He was a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, sup- 
ple and insinuating; the famous Barber of Seville could 
not surpass him for his universal knowledge of the affairs 
of others, and he had no more power of retention than a 
sieve. It was said that he slept with but one eye at a 
time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that, even in his 
sleep, he might see and hear all that was going on. Cer- 
tain it is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the 
quidnuncs of Granada, and had more customers than all 
the rest of his fraternity. 

This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an 
unusual hour of night, and the exclamations of his wife 
and children. His head was instantly popped out of a 
little window which served him as a lookout, and he saw 
his neighbor assist a man in a Moorish garb into his dwell- 
ing. This was so strange an occurrence that Pedrillo 
Pedrugo slept not a wink that night — every five minutes 
he was at his loophole, watching the lights that gleamed 
through the chinks of his neighbor's door, and before 
daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey 
unusually laden. 



118 THE ALHAMBRA. 

The inquisitive barber was in a iSdget; he slipped on 
his clothes, and stealing forth silently, followed the 
water-carrier at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole 
in the sandy bank of the Xenil, and bury something that 
had the appearance of a dead body. 

The, barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, 
setting everything upside down, until sunrise. He then 
took a basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house 
of his daily customer, the Alcalde. 

The Alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated 
him in a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a 
basin of hot water under his chin, and began to mollify 
his beard with his fingers. 

'^Strange doings,'' said Pedrugo, who played barber 
and newsmonger at the same time. '^Strange doings! 
Eobbery, and murder, and burial, all in one night I" 

*^Hey? how! What is it you say?" cried the Alcalde. 

''I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap 
over the nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish 
barber disdains to employ a brush; ''I say that Peregil 
the Gallego has robbed and murdered a Moorish Mussul- 
man, and buried him this blessed night — maldita sea la 
nodie — accursed be the night for the same!" 

''But how do you know all this?" demanded the 
Alcalde. 

"Be patient, sefior, and you shall hear all about it," 
replied Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a 
razor over his cheek. He then recounted all that he had 
seen, going through both operations at the same time, 
shaving his beard, washing his chin, and wiping him dry 
with a dirty napkin, while he was robbing, murdering, 
and burying the Moslem. 

Now it so happened that this Alcalde was one of the 
most overbearing, and at the same time most griping 
and corrupt, curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not 
be denied, however, that he set a high value upon justice, 
for he sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the 
case in point to be one of murder and robbery; doubtless 
there must be rich spoil; how. was it to be secured into 
the legitimate hands of the law? for as to merely entrap- 
ping the delinquent — that would be feeding the gallows; 
but entrapping the booty — that would be enriching th% 
judge; and such, according to his creed, was the greats 



LEGEND OF TEE MOOR'S LEGACY. 119 

end of justice. So thinking, he summoned to his pres- 
ence his trustiest alguazil — a gaunt, hungry-looking var- 
iety clad, according to the custom of his order, in the 
ancient Spanish garb — a broad black beaver, turned up 
at the sides; a quaint rufE, a small black cloak dangling 
from his shoulders; rusty blach underclothes that set off 
his spare wiry form; while in his hand he bore a slender 
white wand, the dreaded insignia of his office. Such was 
the legal bloodhound of the ancient Spanish breed, that 
he put upon the traces of the unlucky water-carrier; 
and such was his speed and certainty that he was upon 
the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned to 
his dwelling, and brought both him and his donkey be- 
fore the dispenser of justice. 

The Alcalde bent upon him one of his most terrific 
frowns. ''Hark ye, culprit," roared he in a voice that 
made the knees of the little Gallego smite together — 
''Hark ye, c^ilprit! there is no need of denying thy guilt; 
everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper re- 
ward for the crime thou hast committed, but I am merci- 
ful, and readily listen to reason. The man that has been 
murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel, the enemy 
of our faith. It was doubtless in a lit of religious zeal 
that thou hast slain him. I will be ixidulgent, therefore; 
render up the property of which thou hast robbed him, 
and we will hush the matter up.'' 

The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to 
witness his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared, 
and if there had, the Alcalde would have disbelieved the 
whole calendar. The water-carrier related the whole 
story of the dying Moor with the straightforward simplic- 
ity of truth, but it was all in vain: "Wilt thou persist 
in saying,'' demanded the judge, "that this Moslem 
had neither gold nor jewels, which were the object of 
thy cupidity?" 

"As I hope to be Stived, your worship," replied the 
water-carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of sandal- 
wood, which he bequeathed to me in reward of my 
services." 

"A box of sandalwood! a box of sandalwood!" ex- 
claimed the Alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of 
precious jewels; "and where is this box? where have yovi 
concealed it?" 



120 TEE ALHAMBRA. 

"kn^ it please your grace/' replied the water-carrier^ 
*^it is in one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily at 
the service of your worship/' 

He had hardly spoken the words when the keen 
alguazil darted off and reappeared in an instant with the 
mysterious box of sandalwood. The Alcalde opened it 
with an eager and trembling hand; all pressed forward 
to gaze upon the treasures it was expected to contain; 
when, to their disappointment, nothing appeared within 
but a parchment scroll, covered with Arabic characters, 
and an end of a waxen taper! 

When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction 
of a prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impar- 
tial. The Alcalde, having recovered from his disap- 
pointment and found there w^as really no booty in the 
case, now listened dispassionately to the explanation of 
the water-carrier, which was eorroborated by the testi- 
mony of his wife. Being convinced, therefore, of his 
innocence, he discharged him from arrest; nay, more, he 
permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box of 
sandalwood and its contents, as the well-merited reward 
of his humanity; but he retained his donkey in payment 
of cost and charges. 

Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once 
more to the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and 
trudging up to the well of the Alhambra with a great 
earthern jar upon his shoulder. As he toiled up the 
hill in the heat of a summer noon his usual good-humor 
forsook him. ^'Dog of an Alcalde!" would he cry, ''to 
rob a poor man of the means of his susbistence — of the 
best friend he had in the world!" And then, at the re- 
membrance of the beloved companion of his labors, all 
the kindness of his nature would break forth. ''Ah, 
donkey of my heart!" would he exclaim, resting his 
burden on a stone, and wiping the sweat from his brow, 
v"Ah, donkey of my heart! I warrant me thou thinkest of 
t\\y old master! I warrant me thou missest the water 
jars — poor beast!" 

To add to his afflictions his wife received him, on his 
return home, with whimperings and repinings; she had 
clearly the vantage-ground of him, having warned him 
not to commit the egregious act of hospitality that had 
brought on bim ^|l thest misfprtun^s, and like a know- 



lEOEND OF THE MOOM'8 LEGACY. 1^1 

itig woman, she took every occasion to throw her 
superior sagacity in his teeth. If ever her children 
lacked food or needed a new garment, she would answer 
with a sneer, *^Go to your father; he^s h^ir to King Chicc 
of the Alhambra. Ask him to help you out of the 
Moor's strong box/' 

Was ever poor mortal more soundly punished for hav- 
ing done a good action! The unlucky Peregil was 
grieved in flesh and spirit, but still he bore meekly with 
the railings of his spouse. At length one evening, when, 
after a hot day's toil, she taunted him in the usual man- 
ner, he lost all patience. He did not venture to retort 
upon her, but his eye rested upon the box of sandal- 
wood, which lay on a shelf with lid half open, as if 
laughing in mockery of his vexation. Seizing it up he 
dashed it with indignation on the floor. '^Unlucky was 
the day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, ''or shel- 
tered thy master beneath my roof." 

As the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open, and 
the parchment scroll rolled forth. Peregil sat regarding 
the scroll for some time in moody silence. At length 
rallying his ideas, ''Who knows," thought he, "but this 
writing may be of some importance, as the Moor seems 
to have guarded it with such care.'^ Picking it up, 
therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the next morning, 
as he was crying water through the streets, he stopped 
at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tangiers, who sold 
trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and asked him to 
explain the contents. 

The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his 
beard and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, "is a 
form of incantation for the recovery of hidden treasure, 
that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to 
have such virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, nay, 
the adamantine rock itself, will yield before it." 

"Bah!" cried the little Gallego, "whatisall thatto me? 
I am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." 
So saying he shouldered his water-jar, left the scroll in 
the hands of the Moor, and trudged forward on his daily 
rounds. 

That evening, however, as he rested himself about 
twilight at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number 
of gossips assembled it the place« aud their conversutioa. 



132 THE A LHAMBRA. 

as is not unusual at that shadowy hour^ turned upon did 
tales and traditions of a supernatural nature. Being all 
poor as rats, they dwelt witn peculiar fondness upon the 
popular theme of enchanted riches left by the Moors in 
^various parts of the Alhambra. Above all they con- 
curred in the belief that there were great treasures 
buried deep in the earth under the tower of the Seven 
Floors. 

These stories made an unusual impression on the mind 
of honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into 
his thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling 
avenues. ''If, after all, there should be treasure hid 
beneath that tower — and if the scroll I left with the 
Moor should enable me to get at it!^^ In the sudden 
ecstasy of the thought he had well nigh let fall his water- 
jar. 

That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely 
get a wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewilder- 
ing his brain. In the morning, bright and early, he re- 
paired to the shop of the Moor, and told him all that was 
passing in his mind. ''You can read Arabic,'^ said he, 
"suppose we go together to the tower and try the efEect 
of the charm; if it fails we are no worse off than before, 
but if it succeeds we will share equally all the treasure 
we may discover.'^ 

"Hold,^' replied the Moslem, 'Hhis writing is not 
sufficient of itself; it must be read at midnight, by the 
light of a taper singularly compounded and prepared, 
the ingredients of which are not within my reach- 
Without such taper the scroll is of no avail. ^' 

"Say no more!'^ cried the little Gallego. "I have 
such a taper at hand and will bring it herein a moment.^' 
So saying he hastened home, and soon returned with the 
end of a yellow wax taper that he had found in the box 
of sandalwood. 

The Moor felt it, and smelt of it. "Here are rare and 
costly perfumes," said he, "combined with this yellow 
wax. This is the kind of taper specified in the scroll. 
While this burns, the strongest walls and most secret 
caverns will remain open; woe to him, however, who 
lingers within until it be extinguished. He will remain 
enchanted with the treasure.'' 

It was now agreed between them to try the charm that 



LEGEND Of TBE MOOR* 8 LEG ACT, 123 

very night. At a late hour, thereforB, when nothing 
was stirring but bats and owls^ they ascended the woody 
hill of the Alhambra, and approached that aAvful tower, 
shrouded by trees and rendered formidable by so many 
traditionary tales. 

By the light of a lantern they groped their way 
through bushes and over fallen stones, to the door of a 
vault beneath the tower. With fear and trembling they 
descended a flight of steps cut into the rock. It led to 
an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which another 
flight of steps led to a deeper vault. In this way they 
descended four several flights, leading into as many 
vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the fourth 
was solid, and though, according to tradition, there re- 
mained three vaults still below, it was said to be impossi- 
ble to penetrate further, the residue being shut up by 
strong enchantment. The air of this vault was damp 
and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and the light scarce 
cast forth any rays. They paused here for a time in 
breathless suspense, until they faintly heard the clock of 
the watch-tower strike midnight; upon this they lit the 
waxen taper, which diffused an odor of myrrh, and 
frankincense, and storax. 

The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had 
scarce finished, when there was a noise as of subter- 
raneous thunder. The earth shook, and the floor yawn- 
ing open disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe 
they descended, and by the light of the lantern found 
themselves in another vault covered with Arabic inscrip- 
tions. In the center stood a great chest, secured with 
seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an en- 
chanted Moor in armor, but motionless as a statue, being 
controlled by the power of the incantation. Before the 
chest were several jars filled with gold and silver and 
precious stones. In the largest of these they thrust their 
arms up to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth 
handsful of broad yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or 
bracelets and ornaments of the same precious metal, 
while occasionally a necklace of Oriental pearl would 
stick to their fingers. Still thev trembled and breathed 
short while cramming their pocKets with the spoils; and 
cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted Moors 
who sat grim and motionless^ glaring upon them witU 



124 THE ALHAMBRA. 



unwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden pani« 
at some fancied noise, they both rushed up the staircase, 
tumbled over one another into the upper apartment, 
overturned and extinguished the waxen taper, and the 
pavement again closed with a thundering sound. 

Filled with dismay they did not pause until they had 
groped their way out of the tower, and beheld the stars 
shining through the trees. Then seating themselves 
upon the grass, they divided the spoil, determining to 
content themselves for the present with this mere skim- 
ming of the jars, but to return on some future night and 
drain them to the bottom. To make sure of each other's 
good faith, also, they divided the talismans between 
them, one retaining the scroll and the other the taper; 
this done, they set off with light hearts and well-lined 
pockets for Granada. 

As they wended their way down the hill the shrewd 
Moor whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the sim- 
ple little water-carrier. 

^^Friend Peregil,'^ said he, ^'all this affair must be 
kept a profound secret until we have secured the treasure 
and conveyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper of it 
gets to the ear of the Alcalde we are undone!" 

'^Certainly !'^ replied the Gallego; ^'nothing can be 
more true." 

^'Friend Peregil,'' said the Moor, *^you are a discreet 
•man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but — you 
have a wife " 

*'She shall not know a word of it!" replied the little 
water-carrier sturdily. 

''Enough," said the Moor, *'I depend upon thy dis- 
cretion and thy promise." 

Never was promise more positive and sincere; but alas! 
what man can keep a secret from his wife? Certainly 
not such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who was one 
of the most loving and tractable of husbands. On his 
return home he found his wife moping in a corner. 

"Mighty well!" cried she, as he entered; ''you've come 
at last, after rambling about until this hour of the night. 
I wonder you have not brought home another Moor as a 
housemate." Then bursting into tears she began to 
wring her hands and smite her breast. "Unhappy 
Woman that I am!'' e^&claimed she, '^ what will become of 



■I 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY. 125 

me! My house stripped and plundered by lawyers and 
alguazils; my husband ado-no-good that no longer brings 
home bread for his family, but goes rambling ai3out, day 
and night, with infidel Moors, Oh, my children! my 
children! wliat will becomo of us; we shall all have to beg 
in the streets!'' 

Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his 
spouse that he could not help whimpering also. His 
heart was as full as his pocket, and not to be restrained. 
Thrusting his hand into the latter he hauled forth three 
or four broad gold pieces and slipped them into her 
bosom. The poor woman stared with astonishment, and 
could not understand the meaning of this golden shower* 
Before she could recover her surprise the Uttle Gallego 
drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before her, 
capering with exultation, his mouth distended from ear 
to ear. 

''Holy Virgin protect us!" exclaimed the wife. *^What 
hast thou been doing, Perngil? Surely thou has not 
been committing murder and robbery!" 

The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman 
than it became a certainty with her. She saw a prison 
and a gallows in the distance, and a little bandy-legged 
Gallego dangling pendant from it; and overcome by the 
horrors conjured up by her imagination, fell into violent 
hysterics. 

What could the poor man do? He had no other means 
of pacifying his wife and dispelling the phantoms of her 
fancy than by relating the whole story of his good for- 
tune. This, however, he did not do until he had exacted 
from her the most solemn promise to keep it a profound 
secret from every living being. 

To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung 
her arms round the neck of her husband, and almost 
strangled him with her caresses. ''Now, wife!" ex- 
claimed the little man with honest exultation, "what say 
you now to the Moor's legacy? Henceforth never abuse 
me for helping a fellow creature in distress." 

The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat, and 
slept as soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife. 
She emptied the whole contents of his pockets upon 
the mat and sat all night counting gold pieces of Arabic 
coin, trying on necklaces and earrings, and fancying the 



126 THE ALHAMBHA/ 

figure she should one day make when permitted to enjoy 
her riches. 

On the following morning the honest Gallego took u 
broad golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweler^s 
shop in the Zacatin to offer it for sale, pretending to 
have found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The 
jeweler saw that it had an Arabic inscription and was of 
the purest gold; he offered, however, but a third of its 
value, with which the water-carrier was perfectly content. 
Peregil now bought new clothes for his little flock, and 
all kinds of toys, together with ample provisions for a 
hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling set all his 
children dancing around him, while he capered in the 
midst, the happiest of fathers. 

The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of 
secrecy with surprising strictness. For a whole day and 
•. half she went about with a look of mystery and a heart 
swelling almost to bursting, yet she held her peace, 
though surrounded by her gossips. It is true she could 
not help giving herself a few airs, apologized for her 
ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new basquina all 
trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and a new lace man- 
tilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intention of 
leaving off his trade of water-carrying, as it did not alto- | 
gether agree with his health. In fact she thought they 
should all retire to the country for the summer, that the 
children might have the benefit of the mountain air, for 
there was no living in the city in this sultry season. 

The neighbors stared at each other, and thought the 
poor woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces 
and elegant pretensions were the theme of universal 
scoffing and merriment among her friends, the moment 
her back was turned. i 

If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemni- 
fied herself at home, and putting a string of rich Oriental 
pearls round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms, 
an aigrette of diamonds on her head, sailed backward 
and forward in her slattern rags about the room, now 
and then stopping to admire herself in a piece of broken 
mirror. Nay, in the impulse of her simple vanity, she 
could not resist on one occasion showing herself at the 
window, to enjoy the effect of her finery on the passers- 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR '8 LEGACY. 127 

As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the med- 
dlesome barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his 
shop on the opposite side of the street, wnen his ever 
watchful eye caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an 
instant he was at his loophole reconnoitering the slattern 
spouse of the water-carrier, decorated with the splendor 
of an Eastern bride. No sooner had he taken an accurate 
inventory of her ornaments than he posted off with all 
speed to the Alcalde. In a little while the hungry 
aigua2dl was again on the scent, and before the day was 
over the unfortunate Peregil was again dragged into the 
presence of the judge. 

^'How is this, villain!'' cried the Alcalde in a furious 
voice. *^You told me that the infidel who died in your 
house left nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now 
I hear of your wife flaunting in her rags decked out with 
pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare to 
render up the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to 
swing on the gallows that is already tired of waiting for 
thee.'' 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made 
a full relation of the marvelous manner in which he had 
gained his wealth. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the 
inquisitive barber listened with greedy ears to this Ara- 
bian tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil was dis- 
patched to bring the Moor who had assisted in the in- 
cantation. The Moslem entered half-frightened out of 
his wits at finding himself in the hands of the harpies of 
the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing 
with sheepish look and downcast countenance, he com- 
prehended the whole matter. '^Miserable animal," said 
he as he passed near him, ^'did I not warn thee against 
babbling to thy wife?" I 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that ofj 
his colleague; but the Alcalde affected to be slow of be- 
lief, and threw out menaces of imprisonment and rigor- 
ous investigation. 

^'Softly, good Seflor Alcalde," said the Mussulman, 
who by this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and 
self-possession. *^Let us not mar fortune's favors in the 
scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this 
matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is 
Wi^alth enough in the cave to enrich us all. Promise a 



128 ^SE ALBAMBBA. 

fair division, and all shall be produced; refuse^ and the 
caves hall remain forever closed/' 

The Alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The 
latter was an old fox in his profession. "Promise any- 
thing/' said he, ''until you get possession of the treasure. 
You may then seize upon the whole, and if he and his 
accomplice dare to murmur, threaten them with the 
fagot and the stake as infidels and scorcerers." 

The Alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow 
and turning to the Moor — ''This is a strange story," 
said he, "and may be true, but I must have ocular proof 
of it. This very night you must repeat the incantation 
in my presence. If there be really such treasure, we will 
share it amicably between us, and say nothing further of 
the matter; if ye have deceived me, expect no mercy at 
my hands. In the meantime you must remain in 
custody." 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to 
these conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the 
truth of their words. 

Toward midnight the Alcalde sallied forth secretly, 
attended by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all 
strongly armed. They conducted the Moor and the 
water-carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the 
stout donkey of the latter, to bear off the expected 
treasure. They arrived at the tower without being 
obser\ed, and tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended 
into the fourth vault of the tower. 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper 
lighted, and the Moor read the form of incantation. 
The earth trembled as before, and the pavement openfed 
with a thundering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of 
steps. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the barber were 
struck aghast, and could not summon courage to descend. 
The Moor and the water-carrier entered the lower vault 
and found the two Moors seated as before, silent and 
motionless. They removed two of the great jars filled 
with golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier 
bore them up one by one upon his shoulders, but though 
a strong-backed little man, and accustomed to carry bur- 
dens, he staggered beneath their weight, and found, 
when slung on each side of his donkey, they weris as 
much as the animal could bear 



LEGEND OF THE MOOR* 8 LEGACY. 129 

*^Let us be content for the present/^ said the Moor, 
^^here is as much treasure as we can carry off without 
being perceived, and enough to make us all wealthy to 
our heart's desire.'' - 

''Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded 
the Alcalde. 

"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor; ''a huge 
coffer, bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls 
and precious stones." 

"Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried tha 
grasping Alcalde. 

"I will descend for no more," said the Moor doggedly. 
"Enough is enough for a reasonable man; more is 
superfluous." 

"And I," said the water-carrier, "will bring up no 
further burden to break the back of my poor donkey." 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally 
vain, the Alcalde turned to his two adherents. "Aid me," 
said he, "to bring up the coffer, and its contents shall bo 
divided between us." So saying he descended the steps, 
followed, with trembling reluctance, by the alguazil and 
the barber. 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed 
than he extingaished the yellow taper: the pavement 
closed with its usual crash, and the three worthies re- 
mained buried in its womb. 

He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor 
stopped until in the open air. The little water-carrier 
followed him as fast as his short legs would permit. 
^ "What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he 
could recover breath. "The Alcalde and the other two 
are shut up in the vault!" 

"It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor devoutly. 

"And will you not release them?" demanded the 
GallegOe 

"Allah forbid!" replied the Moor, smoothing hiar 
beard. "It is written in the book of fate that they shall 
remain enchanted until some future adventurer shall 
come to break the charm. The will of God be done!" 
So saying he hurled the end of the waxen taper far 
among the gloomy thickets of the glen. 
■: There was now no remedy, so the Moor and the water* 
carrier proceeded with the richly laden donkey toward 



130 7^^^ ALSAMBRA. 

the city; nor could honest Peregil refrain from hugging 
and kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, thus restored 
to him from the clutches of the law; and, in fact, it is 
doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little man most 
joy at the moment, the gaining of the treasure or the re- 
covery of the donkey. 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil 
amicably and fairly, excepting that the Moor, who had a 
little taste for trinketry, made out to get into his heap 
the most of the pearls and precious stones, and other 
baubles, but then he always gave the water-carrier in 
lieu magnificent jewels of massy gold four times the size- 
with which the latter was heartily content. They took 
care not to linger within reach of accidents, but made 
off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries. 
The Moor returned into Africa, to his native city of 
Tetuan, and the Gallego, with his wife, his children and 
his donkey, made the best of his way to Portugal. Here, 
under the admonition and tuition of his wife, he became 
a personage of some consequence, for she made the little 
man array his long body and short legs in doublet and 
hose, with a feather in his hat and a sword by his side; 
and, laying aside the familiar appellation of Peregil, 
assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro Gil. His 
progeny grew up a thriving and merry-hearted, though 
short and bandy-legged generation; while the Sefiora 
Gil, be-fringed, be-laced, and be-tasseled from her head 
to her heels, with glittering rings on every finger, be- 
came a model of slattern fashion and finery. 

As to the Alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained 
shut up under the great tower of the Seven Floors, and 
there they remain spellbound at the present day. 
Whenever there shall be a lack in Spain of pimping bar- 
bers, sharking alguazils, and corrupt Alcaldes, they may 
be sought after; but if they have to wait until such time 
for their deliverance, there is danger of their enchant- 
ment enduring until doomsday. 



VISITOBS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 

It is now nearly three months since I took up my 
^bode i« the Alhanrbra, during wbi(?h time the progress 



VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 131 

of the season has wrought many changes. When I first 
arrived everything was in the freshness of May; the 
foliage of the trees was still tender and transparent; the 
pomegranate had not yet shed its brilliant crimson blos- 
soms; the orchards of the Xenil and the Darro were in 
full bloom; the rocks were hung with wild flowers, and 
Granada seemed completely surrounded by a wilderness 
of roses, among which innumerable nightingales sang, 
not merely in the night, but all day long. 

The advance of summer has withered the rose and 
silenced the nightingale, and the distant country begins 
to look parched and sunburnt; though a perennial ver- 
dure reiguo immediately round the city, and in the deep 
narrow valleys at the foot of the snow-capped mountains. 

The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat 
of the weather, among which the most peculiar is the 
almost subterranean apartment of the baths. This still 
retains its ancient Oriental character, though stamped 
with the touching traces of decline. At the entrance, 
opening into a small court formerly adorned with flowers, 
is a hall, moderate in size, but light and graceful in 
architecture. It is overlooked by a small gallery sup- 
ported by marble pillars and moresco arches. An alabas- 
ter fountain in the center of the pavement still throws 
up a jet of water to cool the place. On each side are 
deep alcoves with raised platforms, where the bathers 
after their ablutions reclined on luxurious cushions, 
soothed to voluptuous repose by the fragrance of the 
perfumed air and the notes of soft music from the gal- 
lery. Beyond this hall are the interior chambers, still 
more private and retired, where no light is admitted but 
through small apertures in the vaulted ceilings. Here 
was the sanctum sanctorum of female privacy, where the 
beauties of the harem indulged in the luxury of the 
baths. A soft mysterious light reigns through tne place, 
the broken baths are still there, and traces of ancient 
elegance. 

The prevailing silence and obscurity have made this a 
favorite resort of bats, who nestle during the day in the 
dark nooks and corners, and, on being disturbed, flit 
mysteriously about the twilight chambers, heightening 
in an indescribable degree their air of desertion «na 
decay. 



132 THE ALEAMBRA. 

In this cool and elegant though dilapidated retreat, 
which has the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I have 
of late passed the sultry hours of the day; emerging 
toward sunset, and bathing, or rather swimming, at night 
in the great reservoir of the main court. In this way I 
have been enabled in a measure to counteract the relax- 
ing and enervating influence of the climate. 

My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, is at an 
end: I was roused from it lately by the report of fire- 
arms, which reverberated among the towers as if the 
castle had been taken by surprise. On sallying forth I 
found an old cavalier with a number of domestics in pos- 
session of the hall of Ambassadors. He was an ancient 
count, who had come up from his palace in Granada to 
pass a short time in the Alhambra for the benefit of purer 
air, and who, being a veteran and inveterate sportsman, 
was endeavoring to get an appetite for his breakfast by 
shooting at swallows from the balconies. It was a harm- 
less amusement, for though, by the alertness of his at- 
tendants in loading his pieces, he was enabled to keep up 
a brisk fire, I could not accuse him of the death of a 
single swallow. Nay, the birds themselves seemed to 
enjoy the sport, and to deride his want of skill, skim- 
ming in circles close to the balconies, and twittering as 
they darted by. 

The arrival of this old gentleman has in some measure 
changed the aspect of affairs, but has likwise afforded 
matter for agreable speculation. We have tacitly shared 
the empire between us, like the last kings of Granada, 
excepting that we maintain a most amicable alliance. 
He reigns absolute over the Court of the Lions and its 
adjacent halls, while I maintain peaceful possession of 
the region of the baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. 
We take our meals together under the arcades of the 
•'jourt, where the fountains cool the air, and bubbling 
rills run along the channels of the marble pavement. 

In the evening a domestic circle gathers about the 
worthy old cavalier. The countess comes up from the 
city with a favorite daughter about sixteen years of age. 
Then there are the official dependants of the court, his 
chaplain, his lawyer, his secretary, his steward, and 
others officers and agents of his extensive possessionSo 
Thus be holds a kind of domestic court, where every 



VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 133 

person seeks to contribute to his amusement, without 
sacrificing his own pleasure or self-respecto In fact, 
whatever may be said of Spanish pride, it certainly does 
not enter into social or domestic life. Among no people 
are the relations between kindred more cordial, or be- 
tween superior and dependant more frank and genial; in 
these respects there still remains, in the provincial life 
of Spain, much of the vaunted simplicity of the olden 
timeso 

The most interesting member of this family group, 
however, is the daughter of the count, the charming 
though almost infantile little Carmen. Her form has 
hot yet attained its maturity, but has already the exqui- 
site symmetry and pliant grace so prevalent in this coun- 
try. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, and light hair are 
unusual in Andalusia, and give a mildness and gentleness 
to her demeanor, in contrast to the usual fire of Spanish 
beauty, but in perfect unison with the guileless and con- 
tiding innocence of her manners. She has, however, all 
the innate aptness and versatility of her fascinating 
country women, and sings, dances, and plays the guitar 
and other instruments to admiration. A few days after 
taking up his residence in the Alhambra, the count gave 
a domestic /e^e on his saint^s day, assembling round him 
the members of his family and household, while several 
old servants came from his distant possessions to pay 
their reverence to him, and partake of the good cheer. 

This patriarchal spirit which characterized the Spanish 
nobility in the days of their opulence has declined with 
their fortunes; but some who, like the count, still retain 
their ancient family possessions, keep up a little of the 
ancient system, and have their estates overrun and al- 
most eaten up by generations of idle retainers. Accord- 
ing to this magnificent old Spanish system, in which the 
national pride and generosity bore equal parts, a superan- 
nuated servant was never turned off, but became a charge 
for the rest of his days; nay, his children, and his chil- 
dren's children, and often their relations, to the right and 
left, became gradually entailed upon the family. Hence 
the huge palaces of the Spanish nobility, which have 
such an air of empty ostentation from the greatness of 
their size compared with the mediocrity and scantiness 
of their furniture, were absolutely required in the golden 



134 THE ALHAMBRA 

days of Spain by the patriarchal habits of their possess- 
ors. They were little better than vast barracks for the 
hereditary generations of hangers-on that battened at the 
expense of a Spanish noble. The worthy count, who ha^ 
estates in various parts of the kingdom, assures me that 
some of them barely feed the hordes of dependantu 
nestled upon them; who consider themselves entitled 
to be maintained upon the place, rent free, because theii 
forefathers have been so for generations. 

The domestic /e7^ of the count broke in upon the usual 
still life of the Alhambra. Music and laughter resounded 
through its late sclent halls; there were groups of the 
guests amusing themselves about the galleries and gar- 
dens, and officious servants from town hurrying through 
the courts, bearing viands to the ancient kitchen, which 
was again alive with the tread of cooks and scullions, 
and blazed with unwonted fires. 

The feast, for a Spanish set dinner is literally a feast, 
was laid in the beautiful moresco hall called ''la sala de 
las dos Hermanas" (the saloon of the two sisters); the 
table groaned with abundance, and a joyous conviviality 
prevailed round the board; for though the Spaniards are 
generally an abstemious people, they are complete revel- 
ers at a banquet. 

For my own part, there was something peculiarly in- 
teresting in thus sitting at a feast in the royal halls of 
the Alhambra, given by the representative of one of its 
most renowned conq[uerors; for the venerable count, 
though unwarlike himself, is the lineal descendant and 
representative of the ''Great Captain'^ the illustrious 
Gonsalvo of Cordova, whose sword he guards in the 
archives of his palace at Granada. 

Tha banquet ended, the company adjourned to the 
hall of Ambassadors. Here every one contributed to the 
general amusement by exerting some peculiar talent, 
singing, improvising, telling wonderful tales, or dancing 
to that all-pervading talisman of Spanish pleasure, the 
guitar. 

The life and charm of the whole assemblage, however, 
was the gifted little Carmen. She took her part in two 
or three scenes from Spanish comedies, exhibiting a 
charming dramatic talent; she gave imitations of the 
popular Italian singers; with singular and whimsical 



XEGEND OF PEmCB AHMED AL EAMEL. 135 

felicity and a rare quality of voice; she imitated the dia- 
lects, dances and ballads of the gypsies and the neighbor- 
ing peasantry, but did everything with a facility, a neat- 
ness, a grace, and an all-pervading prettin^ss, that were 
perfectly fascinating. The great charm of her perform- 
ances^ however, was their being free from all pretension 
or ambition of display. She seemed unconscious of th© 
extent of her own talents, and in fact is accustomed only 
to exert them casually, like a child, for the amusement 
of the domestic circle. Her observation and tact must 
be remarkably quick, for her life is passed in the bosom 
of her family, and she can only have had casual and tran- 
sient glances at the various characters and traits brought 
out impromptu in moments of domestic hilarity, like the 
one in question. It is pleasing to see the fondness and 
admiration with which every one of the household regards 
her: she is never spoken of, even by the domestics, by 
any other appellation than that of La Nifla,, ^^the child/' 
an appellation which thus applied has something peculiarly 
kind and endearing in the Spanish language. 

Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remem- 
bering the lovely little Carmen sporting in happy and 
innocent girlhood in it^ marble halls, dancing to the 
sound of the Moorish oastanets or mingling the silver 
warbling of her voice with the music of the fountains. 

On this festive occasion several curious and amusing 
legends and traditions were told, many of which have 
escaped my memory; but of those that most struck me, 
I will endeavor to k^hape forth some entertainment for 
the reader. 



LEGEND OP PEINCE AHMED AL KAMELj 

OR, 
THE PILGRIM OF LOTE. 

There was once a Moorish king of Granada who had 
but one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his cour- 
tiers added the surname of al Kamel, or the perfect, 
from the indubitable signs of superexcellence which they 
perceived in him in his very infancy. The astrologers 
countenanced them in their foresight, predicting every- 



136 THE ALHAMBEA, 

thing in his favor that could make a perfect prince and 
a prosperous sovereign. One cloud only rested upon his 
destiny, and even that was of a roseate hue. He would 
be of an amorous temperament, and run great perils 
from the tender passion. If, however, he could be kept 
from the allurements of love until of mature age, these 
dangers would be averted and his life thereafter be one 
uninterrupted course of felicitya 

To prevent all danger of the kind the king wisely de- 
termined to rear the prince in a seclusion, where he 
should never see a female face nor hear even the name of 
love. For this purpose he built a beautiful palace on 
the brow of a hill above the Alhambra, in the midst of 
delightful gardens, but surrounded by lofty walls; 
being, in fact, the same palace known at the present day 
by the name of the Generaliffe. In this palace the 
youthful prince was shut up and intrusted to the guard- 
ianship and instruction of Ebon Bonabbon, one of the 
wisest an dryesfc of Arabian sages, who had passed the 
greatest part of his life in Egypt, studying hieroglyphics 
and making researches among the tombs and pyramids, 
and who saw more charms in an Egyptian mummy than 
in the most tempting of living beauties. The sage was 
ordered to instruct the prince in all kinds of knowledge 
but one — he is to be kept utterly ignorant of love — "use 
every precaution for the purpose you may think proper," 
said the king, ''but remember, Ebon Bonabbon^ if my 
son learns aught of that forbidden knowledge, while 
under your care, your head shall answer for it." A 
withered smile came over the dry visage of the wise Bon- 
abbon at the menace. "Let your majesty's heart be as 
easy about your son as mine is about my head. Am I a 
man likely to give lessons in the idle passion?" 

Under the vigilant care of the philosopher the prince 
grew up in the seclusion of the palace and its gardens. 
He had black slaves to attend upon him — hideous mutes, 
who knew nothing of love, or if they did, had not words 
to communicate it. His mental endowments were the 
peculiar care of Ebon Bonabbon, who sought to initiate 
him into the abstruse lore of Egypt, but in this the 
prince made little progress, and it was soon evident that 
he had no turn for philosophy. 

He was, however, amazingly ductile for a youthful 



" LEGEND OF PPdNCE AHMHW AL KAMEL 13? 

prince; ready to follow any advice and always guided by 
the last counselor. He suppressed his yawns, and lis- 
tened patiently to the long and learned discourses oi 
Ebon Bonabbon, from which he imbibed a smattering of 
various kinds of knowledge, and thus happily attained 
his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wisdom, but 
totally ignorant of love. 

About this time, however, a change came over the con- 
duct of the prince. He completely abandoned his studies 
and took to strolling about the gardens and musing by 
the side of the fountains. He had been taught a little 
music among his various accomplishments; it now en- 
grossed a great part of his time, and a turn for poetry 
became apparent. The sage Ebon Bonabbon took the 
alarm, and endeavored to work these idle humors out of 
him by a severe course of algebra; but the prince turned 
from it with distaste. '^I cannot endure algebra,^^ said 
he; ^'it is an abomination to me. Iwant something that 
speaks more to the heart. '^ 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon shook his dry head at the 
words. ''Here's an end to philosophy,'^ thought he. 
''The prince has discovered he has a heart!'' He now 
kept anxious watch upon his pupil, and saw that the 
latent tenderness of his nature was in activity, and only 
wanted an object. He wandered about the gardens of 
the Generaliife in an intoxication of feelings of which he 
knew not the cause. Sometimes he would sit plunged, 
in a delicious reverie; then he would seize his lute and 
draw from it the most touching notes, and then throw it 
aside, and break forth into sighs and ejaculations. 

By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to 
inanimate objects; he had his favorite flowers which he 
cherished with tender assiduity; then he became attached 
to various trees, and there was one in particular, of a 
graceful form and drooping foliage, on which he lavished 
his amorous devotion, carving his name on its bark, hang- 
ing garlands on its branches, and singing couplets in its 
praise, to the accompaniment of his lute. 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was alarmed at this excited 
state of his pupil. He saw him on the very brink of for* 
bidden knowledge — the least hint might reveal to him 
the fatal secrete Trembling for the safety of the prince, 
and the security of his own head, he hastened to draw 



138 THE A in AMD RA. 

him from the seductions of the garden, and shut him up 
in the highest tower of the Generaliffe. It contained 
beautiful apartments, and commanded an almost bound- 
less prospect, but was elevated far above that atmosphere 
of sweets and those witching bowers so dangerous to the 
feelings of the too susceptible Ahmed. 

What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to 
this restraint and to beguile the tedious hours? He had 
exhausted almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge; and 
algebra was not to be mentioned. Fortunately Ebon 
Bonabbon had been instructed, when in Egypt, in the 
language of birds by a Jewish rabbi, who had received 
it in lineal transmission from Solomon the Wise, who had 
been taught it by the Queen of Sheba. At the very men- 
tion of such a study the eyes of the prince sparkled with 
animation, and he applied himself to it with such avid- 
ity that he soon became as great an adept as his master. 

The tower of the Generaliife was no longer a solitude; 
he had companions at hand with whom he could con- 
verse. The first acquaintance he formed was with a 
hawk who had built his nest in a crevice of the lofty 
battlements, from whence he soared far and wide in 
quest of prey. The prince, however, found little to like 
or esteem in him. He was a mere pirate of the air, 
swaggering and boastful, whose talk was all about rapina 
and carnage, and desperato exploits. 

His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-look- 
ing bird, with a large head and staring eyes, who sat 
blinking and goggling all day in a hole in the wall, but 
roamed forth at night. He had great pretensions to wis- 
dom; talked something of astrology and the moon, and 
hinted at the dark sciences, but he was grievously given 
to metaphysics, and the prince found his prosings were 
more ponderous than those of tlie sage Ebon Bonabbon. 

Then there was a bat that hung all day by his heels in 
the dark corner of a vault, but sallied out in a slipshod 
style at twilight. He, however, had but twilight ideas 
on all subjects, derided things of which he had taken 
but an imperfect view, and seemed to take delight in 
nothing. 

Besides these there was a swallow, with whom the 
prince was at first much taken. He was a smart talker, 
but restless, bustling, and forever on the wing, seldom 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 13d 

remaining long enough for any continued conversation. 
He turned out in the end to be a mere smatterer, who 
did but skim over the surface of things, pretending to 
know everything, but knowing nothing thoroughly. 

These were the only feathered associates with whom 
the prince had any opportunity of exercising his newly 
acquired language; the tower was too high for any other 
birds to frequent it. He soon grew weary of his new 
acquaintances, whose conversation spake so little to the 
head and nothing to the heart, and gradually relapsed 
into his loneliness. A winter passed away, spring opened 
with all its bloom, and verdure, and breathing sweetness, 
and the happy time arrived for birds to pair and build 
their nests. Suddenly, as it were, a universal burst of 
song and melody broke forth from the groves and gar- 
dens of the Generaliffe, and reached the prince in the 
solitude of his tower. From every side he heard the 
same universal theme — love — love — love — chanted iorih 
and responded to in every variety of note an(? tone. The 
prince listened in silence and perplexity. ''What can be 
this love,^' thought he, ''of which the world seems so full, 
and of which I know nothing?'' He applied for infor- 
mation to his friend the hawk. The ruffian bird an- 
swered in a tone of scorn — "You must apply,'' said he, 
"to the vulgar, peaceable birds of earth, who are made 
for the prey of us princes of the air. My trade is war, 
and fighting my delight. In a word, I am a warrior, and 
know nothing of this thing called love." 

The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought 
the owl in his retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of 
peaceful habits, and may be able to solve my question." 
So he asked the owl to tell him what was this love about 
which all the birds in the groves below were singing. 

Upon this the owl put on a look of offended dignity. 
"My nights," said he, "are taken up in study and re- 
search and my days in ruminating in myself upon all 
ihat I have learned. As to these singing birds of whom 
you talk I never listen to them. I despise them and 
their themes. Allah be praised, I cannot sing. In a 
word, I am a philosopher, and know nothing of this 
thing called love." 

The prince now repaired to the vault where his friend 
the bat was hanging by the heels, and propounded the 



140 THE ALHAMBRA. 

same question. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a 
most snappish expression, **Why do you disturb me in 
my morning's nap with such an idle question?'* said he 
peevishly. '*I only fly by twilight when all birds are 
asleep, and never trouble myself with their concerns. I 
am neither bird nor beast, and I thank Heaven for it. I 
have found out the villainy of the whole of them, and 
hate them, one and all. In a word, I am a misanthrope, 
and know nothing of this thing called love.'' 

As a last resort, the prince now sought the swal- 
low, and stopped him just as he was circling about the 
summit of the tower. The swallow as usual was in a 
prodigious hurry, and had scarce time to make a reply. 
*'Upon my word," said he, ''I have so much public busi- 
ness to attend to, and so many pursuits to follow, that I 
have had no time to think on the subject. 1 have every 
day a thousand visits to pay, a thousand affairs of im- 
portance to examine into, that leave me not a moment of 
leisure for these little sing-song matters. In a word, I 
am a citizen of the world. I know nothing of this thing 
called love." So saying, the swallow dived into the 
valley and was out of sight in a moment. 

The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but 
with his curiosity still more piqued by the difficulty of 
gratifying it. While in this mood his ancient guardian 
entered the tower. The prince advanced eagerly to meet 
him. ^'0 sage Ebon Bonabbon," cried he,"thou hast re- 
vealed to me much of the wisdom of the earth, but there 
is one thing of which I remain in utter ignorance, and 
would fain be informed." 

*'My prince has but to make the inquiry and every- 
thing within the limited range of his servant's intellect 
is at his command." 

'Tell me then, most profound of sages, what is the 
nature of this thing called love?" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon was struck as with a thun- 
derbolt. He trembled and turned pal^, and felt as if his 
head sat but loosely on his shoulders. 

**What could suggest such a question to my prince? 
where could he have learned so idle a word?" 

The prince led him to the window of the tower. ^'Lis- 
ten, Ebon Bonabbon!" said he. The sage listened. 
The nightingale sat in a thicket below the tower singing 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AR3IEI) AL KAMEL 141 

to his paramour, the rose; from every blossomed spray and 
tufted grove arose a strain of melody, and love — love — 
love was still the unvarying theme. "Allah Achbar! 
God is great!'' exclaimed the wise Bonabbon. "Who 
shall pretend to keep this secret from the hearts of men 
when even the birds of the air conspire to betray it?'' 

Then turning to Ahmed, "Oh, my prince," cried he, 
"shut thine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy 
mind against this dangerous knowledge. Know that 
this love is the cause of half the ills of wretched mortal- 
ity. It is this which produces bitterness of strife be- 
tween brethren and friends; which causes treacherous 
murder and desolating war. Care and sorrow, weary 
days and sleepless nights are its attendants. It withers 
the bloom and blights the joys of youth, and brings on 
the ills and griefs of premature old age. Allah preserve 
thee, my prince, in total ignorance of this thing called 
love!" 

The sage Ebon Bonabbon hastily retired, leaving the 
prince plunged in still deeper perplexity. It was in vain 
he attempted to dismiss the subject from his mind; it 
still continued uppermost in his thoughts, and teased 
and exhausted him with vain conjectures. "Surely," 
said he to himself as he listened to the tuneful strains of 
the birds, "there is no sorrow in these notes: everything 
seems tenderness and joy. If love be a cause of such 
wretchedness and strife, why are not those birds droop- 
ing in solitude or tearing each other in pieces, instead 
of fluttering cheerfully about the groves or sporting 
with each other among the flowers?" 

He lay one morning on his couch meditating on this 
inexplicable matter. The window of his chamber was 
open to admit the soft morning breeze which came laden 
with the perfume of orange blossoms from the valley of 
the Darro. The voice of the nightingale was faintly 
heard, still chanting the wonted theme. As the prince 
was listening and sighing, there was a sudden rushing 
noise in the air; a beautiful dove, pursued by a hawk, 
darted in at the window and fell panting on the floor; 
while the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared off to the 
mountains. 

The prince took up the gasping bird^ smoothed its 
feiithers, and nestled it in his bosom. When he had 



142 THE ALBAMBEA. 

soothed it by his caresses he put it in a golden cage, and 
offered it, with his own hands, the whitest and finest of 
wheat and the purest of water. The bird, however, re- 
fused food, and sat drooping and pining, and uttering 
piteous moans. 

''What aileth thee?'' said Ahmed. ''Hast thou not 
everything thy heart can wish?'' 

"Alas, no!" replied the dove, "am I not separated 
from the partner of my heart — and that too in the happy 
spring-time — the very season of love?" 

"Of love!" echoed Ahmed. "I pray thee, my pretty 
bird, canst thou then tell me what is love?" 

"Too well can I, my prince. It is the torment of one, 
the felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is 
a charm which draws two beings together and unites 
them by delicious sympathies, making it happiness to be 
with each other, but misery to be apart. Is there no 
being to whom you are drawn by these ties of tender 
affection?" 

"I like my olrl teacher. Ebon Bonabbon, better than 
any other being; but he is often tedious, and I occasion- 
ally feel myself happier without his society." 

"That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak of love, 
the great mystery and principle of life, the intoxicating 
revel of youth, the sober delight of age. Look forth, 
my prince, and behold how at this blest season all nature 
is full of love. Every created being has its mate; the 
most insignificant bird sings to its paramour; the very 
beetle woos its lady beetle in the dust, and yon butter- 
flies which you see fluttering high above the tower and 
toying in the air are happy in each other's love. Alas^, 
my prince! hast thou spent so many of the precious days, 
of youth without knowing anything of love! Is there no 
gentle being of another sex, no beautiful princess or 
lovely damsel who has ensnared your heart, and filled 
your bosom with a soft tumult of pleasing pains and ten- 
der wishes?" 

"I begin to understand!" said the prince, sighing. 
"Such a tumult I have more than once experienced with- 
out knowing the cause; and where should I seek for an 
object such as you describe in this dismal solitude?" 

A little further conversation ensued, and the first 
jlJTl^tory lesson of the prince was compl^t^. 



LEGEND OF PnmCE ABMEl) AL KAMEL. 143 

"AlasI^^ said he, '^if love be indeed such a delight, and 
its interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I should 
inar the joy of any of its votaries," He opened the cage, 
took out the dove, and, having fondly kissed it, carried 
it to the window. *^Go, happy bird,'^ said he, '^rejoice 
with the partner of thy heart in the days of youth and 
spring-time. Why should I make thee a fellow prisoner* 
in this dreary tower, where love can never enter?'^ 

The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault 
into the air, and then swooped downward on whistling 
wings to the blooming bowers of the Darro. 

The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave 
way to bitter repining. The singing of the birds which 
once delighted him now added to his bitterness. Love! 
love! love! Alas, poor youth, he now understood the 
strain. 

His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage 
Bonabbon. '^Why hast thou kept me in this abject 
ignorance?'^ cried he. '^Why has the great mystery and 
principle of life been withheld from me, in which I find 
the meanest insect is so learned? Behold, all nature is 
in a revel of delight. Every created being rejoices with 
its mate. This — this is the love about which I have 
sought instruction; why am I alone debarred its enjoy- 
ment? why has so much of my youth been wasted witii- 
out a knowledge of its rapture?'^ 

The sage Bonabbon saw that all further reserve was 
useless, for the prince had acquired the dangerous and 
forbidden knowledge. He revealed to him, therefore, 
the predictions of the astrolpgers, and the precautions 
that had been taken in his education to avert the threat- 
ened evils. ^^And now, my prince," added he, ''my life 
is in your hands. Let the king your father discover 
that you have learned the passion of love while under my 
guardianship, and my head must answer for it." 

The prince was as reasonable as most young men of 
his age, and easily listened to the remonstrances of his 
tutor, since nothing pleaded against them. Besides, he 
really was attached to the sage Bonabbon, and being as 

et but theoretically acquainted with the passion of love, 
le consented to confine the knowledge of it to his own 
bosom rather than endanger the head of the philosopher. 
His discretion was doomed, however, to be put to still 



I 



144 THE ALHAMBnA. 

further proofs. A few mornings afterward^ as he was 
ruminating on the battlements of the tower, the dove 
which had been released by him came hovering in the 
air, and alighted fearlessly upon his shoulder. 

The prince fondled it to his breast. ^^Happy bird/^ 
said he, 'Svho can fly, as it were, with the wings of the 
morning to the uttermost parts of the earth. Where 
hast thou been since we parted?'^ 

"In a far country, my prince; from whence I bring you 
tidings in reward for my liberty. In the wide compass 
of my flight, which extends over plain and mountain, as 
I was soaring in the air I beheld below me a delightful 
garden with all kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a 
green meadow on the banks of a meandering stream, and 
in the center of the garden was a stately palace. I 
alighted in one of the bowers to repose after my weary 
flight; on the green bank below me was a youthful prin- 
cess in the very sweetness and bloom of her years. She 
was surrounded by female attendants, young like herself, 
who decked her with garlands and coronets of flowers; 
but no flower of field or garden could compare with her 
for loveliness. Here, however, she bloomed in secret, 
for the garden was surrounded by high walls, and no 
mortal man was permitted to enter. When I beheld this 
beauteous maid thus young and innocent, and unspotted 
by tne world, I thought, here is the being formed by 
Pleaven to inspire my prince with love.'^ 

The description was as a spark of fire to the combusti- 
ble heart of Ahmed; all the latent amorousness of his 
temperament had at once found an object, and he con- 
ceived an immeasurable passion for the princess. He 
wrote a letter couched in the most impassioned language, 
breathing his fervent devotion, but bewailing the un- 
happy thraldom of his person, which prevented him from 
seeking her out, and throwing himself at her feet. He 
added couplets of the most tender and moving eloquence, 
for he was a poet by nature and inspired by love. He 
addressed his letter, ''To the unknown beauty, from the 
captive Prince Ahmed, '^ then perfuming it with musk 
and roses, he gave it to the dove. 

'^Away, trustiest of messengers,^' saia he. '^Fly over 
mountain, and valley, and river, and plain; rest not in 
bower nor set foot on earth, until thou hast given this 
letter to the mistress of my heart. ^' 



LEGEND OF PBINCE ARMED AL KAMEL, 145 

The dove soared high in air^ and taking his course 
darted away in one undeviating direction. The prince 
followed him with his eye until he was a mere speck on 
a cloud, and gradually disappeared behind a mountain. 

Day after day he watched for the return of the mes- 
senger of love; but he watched in vain. He began to 
accuse him of forgetfulness, when toward sunset one 
evening the faithful bird fluttered into his apartment^ 
and falling at his feet expired. The arrow of some wan- 
ton archer had pierced his breast, yet he had struggled 
with the lingerings of life to execute his mission. As 
the prince bent with grief over this gentle martyr to 
fidelity he beheld a chain of pearls round his neck, at- 
tached to which, beneath his wing, was a small enameled 
picture. It represented a lovely princess in 'the very 
flower of her years. It was, doubtless, the unknown 
beauty of the garden; but who and where was she — how 
had she received his letter — and was this picture sent as 
a token of an approval of his passion? Unfortunately, 
the death of the faithful dove left everything in mystery 
and doubt. 

The prince gazed on the picture till his eyes swam 
with tears. He pressed it to his lips and to his heart; 
he sat for hours contemplating it in an almost agony of 
tenderness. '^Beautiful image!'^ said he. ''Alas, thou 
art but an image. Yet thy dcAvy eyes beam tenderly 
upon me; those rosy lips look as though they would 
speak encouragement. Vain fancies! , Have they not 
looked the same on some more happy rival? But where 
in this wide world shall I hope to find the original? 
Who knows what mountains, what realms may separate 
us? What adverse chance may intervene? Perhaps 
now, even now, lovers may be crowding around her, while 
I sit here, a prisoner in a tower, wasting my time in 
adoration of a painted shadow.'^ 

The resolution of Prince Ahmed was taken. **I will 
fly from this palace,'^ said he,''which has become an odious 
prison, and, a pilgrim of love, will seek this unknown 
princess througnout the world. ^' 

To escape from the tower in the day, when every one 
was awake, might be a difficult matter; but at night the 
palace was slightly guarded, for no one apprehended any 
attempt of the kind from the prince, who had always 



X46 THE ALHAMBRA. 

been so passive in his captivity. How was he to guide^ 
himself, how^ever, in his darkling flight, being ignorant 
of the country? He bethought him of the owl, who was 
accustomed to roam at night, and must know every by- 
lane and secret pass. Seeking him in his hermitage, he 
questioned him touching his knowledge of the lando 
Upon this the owl put on a mighty self-important look. 

'*You must know, prince," said he, ^^that we owls 
are of a very ancient and extensive family, though rather 
fallen to decay, and possess ruinous castles and palaces 
in all parts of Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the 
mountains, or fortress of the plains, or an old citadel of a 
city but has some brother, or uncle, or cousin quartered 
in it; and in going the rounds to visit these my numer- 
ous kindred I have pryed into every nook and corner, 
and made myself acquainted with every secret of the 
land.'^ 

The prince was overjoyed to find the owl so deeply 
versed in topography, and now informed him, in confi- 
dence, of his tender passion and his intended elopement, 
urging him to be his companion and counselor. 

'^Go to!" said the owl, with a look of displeasure. 
''Am I a bird to engage in a love affair — I whose whole 
time is devoted to meditation and the moon!" 

''Be not offended, most solemn owl!" replied the 
prince. "Abstract thyself for a time from meditation 
and the moon, and aid me in my flight, and thou shalt 
have whatever heart can wish." 

"I have that already," said the owl. "A few mice are 
sufficient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is 
spacious enough for my studies, and what more does a 
philosopher like myself desire?" 

"Bethink thee, most wise owl, that while moping in 
thy cell and gazing at the moon all thy talents are lost 
to the world. I shall one day be a sovereign prince, and 
may advance thee to some post of honor and dignity." 

The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary 
wants of life, was not above ambition, so he was finally 
prevailed upon to elope with the prince, and be his guide 
and mentor in his pilgrimage. 

The plans of a lover are promptly executed The 
prince collected all his jewels, and concealed them about 
bis person as traveling funds. That very night he 



LEGEND OF FBIJSrCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 147 

lowered himself by his scarf from a balcony of the tower, 
clambered over the outer walls of the Generaliffe and, 
guided by the owl, made good his escape before morning 
to the mountains. 

He now held a council with his mentor as to his future 
course. 

''Might I advise/' said the owl, ''1 would recommend 
you to repair to Seville. You must know that many 
years since I was on a visit to an uncle, an owl of great 
dignity and power, who lived in a ruined wing of the 
Alcazar of that place. In my hoverings at night over 
the city I frequently remarked a light burning in a 
lonely tower. At length I alighted on the battlements, 
and found it to proceed from the lamp of an Arabian 
magician. He was surrounded by his magic books, and 
on his shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient 
raven, who had come with him from Egypt. I became 
acquainted with that raven, and owe to him a great part 
of the knowledge I possess. The magician is since dead, 
but the raven still inhabits the tower, for these birds are 
of wonderful long life. I would advise you, prince, 
to seek that raven, for he Is a soothsayer and a conjuror, 
and deals in the black art, for which all ravens, and es- 
pecially those of Egypt, are renowned.'' 

The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, 
ftnd accordingly bent his course toward Seville. He 
traveled only in the night, to accommodate his compan- 
ion, and lay by during the day in some dark cavern or 
moldering watch-tower, for the owl knew every hiding 
hole of the kind in the country, and had a most anti- 
quarian taste for ruins. 

At length, one morning at daybreak, they reached the 
city of Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and 
bustle of crowded streets, halted without the gate, and 
took up his quarters in a hollow tree. 

The prince entered the gate, and readily found the 
magic tower, which rose above the houses of the city as 
ft palm-tree rises above the shrubs of the desert. It was, 
in fact, the same tower known at the present day as the 
Giralda, the famous Moorish tower of Seville. 

The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the 
summit of the tower, where he found the cabalistic 
yaven, an old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in 



148 TEE ALHAMBRA. 

feather, with a film over one eye that gave him the glare 
of a specter. He was perched on one leg, with his head 
turned on one side, and poring with his remaining eye 
on a diagram described on the pavement. 

The prince approached him with the awe and reverence 
naturally inspired by his venerable appearance and super- 
natural wisdom. ^'Pardon me, most ancient and darkly 
wise raven, '^ exclaimed he, ^'if for a moment I interrupt 
those studies which are the wonder of the world. You 
behold before you a votary of love, who would fain seek 
counsel how to obtain the object of his passion.^' 

^•'In other words,'^ said the raven, with a significant 
look, ^^you seek to try my skill in palmistry. Come, 
show me your hand, and let me decipher the mysterious 
lines of fortune. ^^ 

^^Excuse me,'' said the prince, ^'I come not to pry into 
the decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah from the 
eyes of mortals. I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to 
find a clew to the object of my pilgrimage." 

^^And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous 
Andalusia?'' said the old raven, leering upon him with 
his single eye. '^Above all, can you be at a loss in wan- 
ton Seville, where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra 
under every orange grove?' 

The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at 
hearing an old bird, with one foot in the grave, talk thus 
loosely. ''Believe me," said he gravely, ''I am on none 
such light and vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. 
The black-eyed damsels of Andalusia who dance among 
the orange groves of the Guadalquiver are as naught to 
me. I seek one unknown but immaculate beauty, the 
original of this picture, and I beseech thee, most potent 
raven, if it be within the scope of thy knowledge or the 
reach of thy art, inform me where she may be found." 

The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of 
the prince. ''What know I," replied he dryly, "of youth 
and beauty? My visits are to the old and withered, not 
the young and fair. The harbinger of fate am I, who 
croak bodings of death from the chimney top and flap 
my wings at the sick man's window. You must seek 
elsewhere for tidings of your unknown beauty." 

"And where am I to seek, if not among the sons of 
wi$dom, versed in the book of destiny? A royal prince 



LEGEND OF PRmCE AHMED AL JCAMEL ) 4fl 

am I; fated by the stars, and sent on a mysterious enter 
prise, on which may hang the destiny of empires. '^ 

When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast 
moment, in which the stars took interest, he changed his 
tone and manner, and listened with profound attention 
to the story of the prince. When it was concluded he 
replied, ^'Touching this princess, I can give thee no in- 
formation of myself, for my flight is not among gardens 
or around ladies^ bowers; but hie thee to Cordova, seek 
the palm-tree of the great Abderahman, which stands in 
the court of the principal mosque; at the foot of it you 
will find a great traveler, who has visited all countries 
and courts, and been a favorite with queens and prin- 
cesses. He will give you tidings of the object of your 
search.'^ 

''Many thanks for this precious information, '' said the 
prince. "Farewell, most venerable conjuror.^^ 

'^Farewell, pilgrim of love,'' said the raven dryly, and 
again fell to pondering on the diagram. 

The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow 
traveler the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, 
and set off for Cordova. 

He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange 
and citron groves overlooking the fair valley of the 
Guadalquiver. When arrived at its gates, the owl flew 
up to a dark hole in the wall, and the prince proceeded in 
quest of the palm-tree planted in days of yore by the 
great Abderahman. It stood in the midst of the great 
court of the mosque, towering from amid orange and 
cypress trees. Dervises and fakirs were seated in 
groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of the 
faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains 
before entering the mosque. 

At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to 
the words of one who appeared to be talking with great 
volubility. This, said the prince to himself, must be the 
great traveler who is to give me tidings of the unknown 
princess. He mingled in the crowd, but was astonished 
to perceive that they were all listening to a parrot, who, 
with his bright green coat, pragmatical eye, and conse- 
quential topknot, had the air of a bird on excellent terms 
with himself. 

*'How is this,'* said the prince to one of the by stand- 



150 THE ALHAMBBA. 

ers, 'Hhat so many grave persons can be delighted %ith 
the garrulity of a chattering bird?'" 

^ You know not of whom you speak/' said the other; 
'^this parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of 
Persia, renowned for his story-telling talent. He has all 
the learning of the East at the tip of his tongue, and can 
quota poetry as fast as he can talk. He has visited 
various foreign courts where he has been considered an 
oracle of erudition. He has been a universal favorite 
also with the fair sex, who have a vast admiration for 
erudite parrots that can quote poetry." 

''Enough,'^ said the prince, ''I will have some private 
talk with this distinguished traveler." 

He sought a private interview, and expounded the 
nature of his errand. He had scarcely mentioned it 
when the parrot burst into a fit of dry rickety laughter 
that absolutely brought tears in his eyes. '^Excuse my 
mirth," said he, "but the mere mention of love always 
sets me laughing." 

The prince Avas shocked at this ill-timed merriment. 
"Is not love," said he, "the great mystery of nature — 
the secret principle of life — the universal bond of sym- 
pathy?" 

"A fig's end!" cried the parrot, interrupting him. 
"Prithee where hast thou learnt this sentimental jargon? 
Trust me, love is quite out of vogue; one never hears of 
it in the company of wits and people of refinement." 

The prince sighed as he recalled the different language 
of his friend the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has 
lived about court; he affects the wit and the fine gentle- 
man; he knows nothing of the thing called love. 

Ur willing to provoke any more ridicule of the senti- 
ment which filled his heart, he now directed his inquir- 
ies to the immediate purport of his visit. 

"Tell me," said he, "most accomplished parrot, thou 
who hast everywhere been admitted to the most secret 
bowers of beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels 
met with the original of this portrait?" 

The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his 
head from side to side, and examined it curiously with 
either eye. "Upon my honor," said he, "a very pretty 
face; very pretty. But then one sees so many pretty 
women in one's travels that one can hardly — but hold— 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 151 

bless me! now I look at it again — sure enough, this is 
the Princess Aldegonda: how could I forget one that is 
so prodigious a favorite with me?'^ 

^'The Princess Aldegonda!'^ echoed the prince, *^and 
where is she to be found ?^' 

'SSoftly — softly/' said the parrot, '^easier to be found 
than gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian 
king who reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the 
world until her seventeenth birthday, on account of some 
prediction of those meddlesome fellows, the astrologers. 
You'll not get a sight of her, no mortal man can see 
her. I was admitted to her presence to entertain her, 
and I assure you, on the word of a parrot who has seen 
the world, I have conversed with much sillier princesses 
in my time." 

^'A word in confidence, my dear parrot," said the 
prince. ^^I am heir to a kingdom, and shall one day sit 
upon a throne. I see that you are a bird of parts and 
understood the word. Help me to gain possession of 
this princess and I will advance you to some distinguished 
post about court." 

^^With all my heart," said the parrot; "but let it be a 
sinecure if possible, for we wits have a great dislike to 
labor." 

Arrangements were promptly made; the prince sallied 
forth from Cordova through the same gate by which he 
had entered; called the owl down from the hole in the 
wall, introduced him to his new traveling companion as 
a brother savant, and away they set off on their journey. 

They traveled much more slowly than accorded with 
the impatience of the prince, but the parrot was accus- 
tomed to high life, and did not like to be disturbed early 
in the morning. The owl, on the other hand, was for 
sleeping at midday, and lost a great deal of time by his 
long siestas. His antiquarian taste also was in the way; 
for he insisted on pausing and inspecting every ruin, 
and had long legendary tales to tell about every old 
tower and castle in the country. The j^rince had sup- 
posed that he and the parrot, being both birds of learn- 
ing, could delight in each other's society, but never had 
he been more mistaken^ They were eternally bickering. 
The one was a wit, the other a philosopher. The 
panot quoted poetry, was critical on my{ re^dings^ ^nd 



US TEE ALEAMBEA. 

eloquent on small points of erudition; the owl treated all 
such knowledge as trifling, and relished nothing but 
metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing songs and 
repeat bo7i mots, and crack jokes upon his solemn neigh- 
bor, and laugh outrageouly at his own wit; all which the 
owl considered a grievous invasion of his dignity, and 
would scowl, and sulk, and swell, and sit silent for a 
whole day together. > 

Tl e prince heeded not the wranglings of his compan- 
ions, being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy 
and the contemplation of the portrait of the beautiful 
princess. In this way they journeyed through the stern 

S asses of the Sierra Morena, across the sunburnt plains of 
ia Mancha and Castile, and along the banks of the 
^^Golden Tagus,^^ which winds its wizard mazes over one- 
half of Spain and Portugal. At length they came in 
sight of a strong city with walls and towers, built on a 
rocky promontory, round the foot of which the Tagus 
circled with brawling violence. '^Behold," exclaimec; 
the owl, ^'the ancient and renowned city of Toledo; a 
city famous for its antiquities. Behold those venerable 
domes and towers, hoary with time, and clothed with 
legendary grandeur, in which so many of my ancestors 

have meditated '^ 

^'Pish,^' cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn 
antiquarian rapture, '^what have we to do with antiqui- 
ties and legends, and your ancestors? Behold, what is 
more to the purpose, behold the abode of youth and 
beauty — behold, at length, prince, the abode of your 
long-sought princess.'^ 

The prince looked in the direction indicated by the 
parrot, and beheld, in a delightful green meadow on the 
banks of the Tagus, a stately palace rising from amid 
the bowers of a delicious garden. It was just such a 
place as had been described by the dove as the resi- 
dence of the original of the picture. He gazed at it 
with a throbbing heart: ^'Perhaps at this moment,'' 
thought he, "the beautiful princess is sporting beneath 
those shady bowers, or pacing with delicate step those 
stately terraces, or reposing beneath those lofty roofs!" 
As he looked more narrowly he perceived that the Avails 
of the garden were of great lieight, so as to defy access, 
whi^e numbers of armed guards patrolled around them. 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 15.] 

The prince turned to the parrot. *^0 most accom- 
plished of birds/' said he, '^thoii hast the gift of human 
speech. Hie thee to yon garden; seek the idol of my 
soul, and tell her that Prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, 
and guided by the stars^ has arrived in quest of her on 
the flowery banks of the Tagus.'' 

The parrot, proud of his embassy, flew away to the 
garden, mounted abovt its lofty walls, and, after soaring 
for a time over the lawns and groves, alighted on the 
balcony of a pavilion that overhung the river. Here, 
looking in at the casement, he beheld the princess reclin- 
ing on a couch, with her eyes fixed on a paper, while 
tears gently stole after each other down her pallid cheek. 

Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his bright 
green coat, and elevating his topknot, the parrot perched 
himself beside her with a gallant air; then assuming a 
tenderness of tone — 

''Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses/* said he, 
*'I come to bring solace to thy heart.'' 

The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turn- 
ing and seeing nothing but a little green-coated bird 
bobbing and bowing before her — *'Alas! what solace 
canst thou yield," said she, ''seeing thou art but a 
parrot?" 

The parrot was nettled at the question. *^I have con- 
soled many beautiful ladies in my time," said he; "but 
let that pass. At present, I come ambassador from a 
royal prince. Know that Ahmed, the Prince of Granada, 
has arrived in quest of thee, and is encamped even now 
on the flowery banks of the Tagus." 

The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these 
words, even brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. 
"0 sweetest of parrots," cried she, "joyful indeed are 
thy tidings; for I was faint, and weary, and sick almost 
unto death, with doubt of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie 
thee back and tell him that the words of his letter are 
engraven in my heart, and his poetry has been the food 
of my soul. Tell him, however, that he must prepare to 
prove his love by force of arms; to-morrow is my seven- 
teenth birthday, when the king, my father, holds a great 
tournament; several princes are to enter the lists, and 
my hand is to be the prize of the victor.'* 

The parrot again took wing and, rustling through the 



154 



THE ALBAMBRA. 



groves, flew back to where the prince awaited his retuni. 
The rapture of Ahmed on finding the oridnal of hi^ 
adored portrait, and finding her kind and true, can 
only be conceived by those favored mortals who have 
had the good fortune to realize daydreams and turn 
shadows into substance. Still there was one thing that 
alloyed his transport— this impending tournament. In 
fact, the banks of the Tagus were already glittering with 
arms and resounding with trumpets of the various 
^^nights, who with proud retinues were prancing on 
toward Toledo to attend the ceremonial. The same star 
that had controlled the destiny of the prince had gov- 
erned that of the princess, and until her seventeenth 
birthday she had been shut up from the world, to guard 
her from the tender passion. The fame of her charms, 
however, had been enhanced rather than obscured by this 
seclusion. Sevoral powerful princes had contended for 
her alliance, and her father, who was a king of wondrous 
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing partial- 
ity, had referred them to the arbitrament of arms. 
Among the rival candidates were several renowned for 
strength and prowess. What a predicament for the un- 
fortunate Ahmed, unprovided as he was with weapons, 
and unskilled in the exercises of chivalry! ''Luckless 
prince that I am!'' said he, 'Ho have been brought up in 
seclusion, under the eye of a philosopher! of what avail 
are algebra and philosophy in affairs of love! alas. Ebon 
Bonabbon, why hast thou neglected to instruct me in 
the management of arms?" Upon this the owl broke 
silence, prefacing his harangue with a pious ejaculation, 
for he was a devout Mussulman: 

"Allah Achbar! 'God is great,'" exclaimed he, "in 
his hands are all secret things. He alone governs the 
destiny of princes! Know, prince, that this land is 
full of mysteries, hidden from all but those who, like 
myself, can grope after knowledge in the dark. Know 
that in the neighboring mountains there is a cave, and in 
that cave there is an iron table, and on that table lies a 
suit of magic armor, and beside that table stands a spell- 
bound steed, which have been shut up there for many 
generations." 

The prince stared with wonder, while the owl, blinking 
his huge round eyes and erecting his horns, proceeded: 



LEGEND OF PRINCE ABMET) AL KAMBL. 15.5 

*'Many years since I accompanied my father to these 
parts on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that 
cave, and thus became I acquainted with the mystery. 
It is a tradition in our family, which I have heard from 
my grandfather when I was yet but a very little owlet^ 
that this armor belonged to a Moorish magician, who 
took refuge in this cavern when Toledo was captured by 
the Christians, and died here, leaving his steed and 
weaponb pnder a mystic spell, never to be used but by 9 
Moslem, ctnd by him only from sunrise to midday. Iri 
that interval, whoever uses them will overthrow every 
opponent. ^^ 

^'Enough, let us seek this cave,'' exclaimed Ahmed. 

Guided by his legendary mentor, the prince found the 
cavern, which was in one of the wildest recesses of those 
rocky cliffs which rose around Toledo; none but the 
mousing eye of an owl or an antiquary could have dis- 
covered the entrance to it. A sepulchral lamp of ever- 
lasting oil shed a solemn light through the place. On 
an iron table in the center of the cavern lay the magio 
armor, against it leaned the lance, and beside it stood 
an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but motion- 
less as a statue. The armor was bright and unsullied., 
as it had sjleamed in days of old; the steed in as good 
condition as if just from the pasture, and when Ahmed 
laid his hand upon his neck, he pawed the ground and 
gave a loud neigh of joy that shook the walls of the 
cavern. Thus provided with horse to ride and weapon 
to wear, the prince determined to defy the field at the 
impending tourney. 

The eventful morning arrived. The lists for the com- 
bat were prepared in the Vega or plain just below the 
clifE-built walls of Toledo. Here were erected stages and 
galleries for the spectators, covered with rich tapestry 
and sheltered from the sun oy silken awnings. All the 
beauties of the land were assembled in those galleries, 
while below pranced plumed knights with their pages 
and esquires, among whom figured conspicuously the 
princes who were to contend in the tourney. All the 
beauties of the land, however, were ecUpsea when the 
Princess Aldegonda appeared in the royal pavilion and 
for the first time broke forth upon the gaze of an admir- 
ing world. A murmur of wonder ran through the crowd 



156 ^^^ ALHAMBBA. 

at her tranbcendent loveliness; and the princes who were 
candidates for her hand merely on the faith of her re- 
ported charms now felt tenfold ardor for the conflict. 

The princess, however, had a troubled look. The color 
came and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered 
with a restless and unsatisfied expression over the plumed 
throng of knights. The trumpets were about sounding 
for the encounter when a herald announced the arrival 
of a stranger knight, and Ahmed rode into the field. A 
steeled helmet studded with gems rose above his turban; 
his cuirass was embossed with gold; his scimitar and 
dagger were of the workmanship of Fay, and flamed with 
precious stones. A round shield was at his shoulder, 
and in his hand he bore the lance of charmed virtue. 
The caparison of his Arabian was richly embroidered 
and swept the ground, and the proud animal pranced and 
snuflTed the air, and neighed with joy at once more be- 
holding the array of arms. The lofty and graceful de- 
meanor of the prince struck every eye, and when his 
appellation was announced, ^'The pilgrim of love,^* a 
universal flutter and agitation prevailed among the fair 
dames in the galleries. 

When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, howeverj 
they were closed against him; none but princes, he was 
told, were admitted to the contest. He declared his 
name and rank. Still worse, he was a Moslem, and could 
not engage in a tourney where the hand of a Christian 
princess was the prize. 

The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and 
menacing aspects, and one of insolent demeanor and 
Herculean frame sneered at his light and youthful form, 
and scoffed at his amorous appellation. The ire of the 
prince was roused; he defied his rival to the encounter. 
They took distance, wheeled, and charged; at the first 
touch of the magic lance the brawny scoffer was tilted 
from his saddle. Here the prince would have paused, 
but alas! he had to deal with a demoniac horse and 
^rmor; once in action, nothing could control them. The 
Arabian steed charged into the thickest of the throng; 
the lance overturned everything that presented; the 
gentle prince was carried pellmell about the field, strew- 
ing it with high and low, gentle and simple, and griev- 
ing at his own involuntary exploits. The king stormed 



LEGEND OF PEIXCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 157 

and raged at this outrage on his subjects and his guestSo 
He ordered out all his guards — they were unhorsed as 
fast as they came up. The king threw off his robes, 
grasped buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the 
stranger with the presence of majesty itself. Alas, 
majesty fared no better than the vulgar; the steed and 
lance were no respecters of persons; to the dismay of 
Ahmed, he was borne full tilt against the king, and in a 
moment the royal heels were in the air, and the crown 
was rolling in the dust. 

At this moment the sun reached the meridian; the 
magic spell resumed its power. The Arabian steed 
scoured across the plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into 
the Tagus, swam its raging current, bore the prince, 
breathless and amazed, to the cavern, and resumed his 
station like a statue beside the iron table. The prince 
dismounted right gladly, and replaced the armor, to 
abide the further decrees of fate. Then seating himself 
in the cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state to 
which this bedeviled steed and armor had reduced him. 
Never should he dare to show his face at Toledo, after 
inflicting such disgrace upon its chivalry, and such an 
outrage on its king. What, too, would the princess 
think of so rude and riotous an achievement! Full of 
anxiety, he sent forth his winged messengers to gather 
tidings. The parrot resorted to all the public places and 
crowded resorts of the city, and soon returned with a 
world of gossip. All Toledo was in consternation. The 
princess had been borne off senseless to the palace; the 
tournament had ended in confusion; every one was talk- 
ing of the sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and 
strange disappearance of the Moslem knight. Some pro- 
nounced him a Moorish magician; others thought him a 
demon who had assumed a human shape; while others 
related traditions of enchanted warriors hidden in the 
caves of the mountains, and thought it might be one of 
these, who had made a sudden irruption from his den. 
All agreed that no mere ordinary mortal could have 
wrought such wonders, or unhorsed such accomplished 
and stalwart Christian warriors. 

The owl flew forth at night, and hovered about the 
dusky city, percliing on the roofs and chimneys. He 
then wheeled his flight up to the roya,! palace, which . 



158 TEE ALHA MBRA. 

stood on the rocky summit of Toledo, and went prowling 
about its terraces and battlements, eavesdropping at 
every cranny, and glaring in with his big goggling eyes 
at every window where there was a light, so as to throw 
two or three maids of honor into fits. It was not until 
the gray dawn began to peer above the mountains that 
he returned from his mousing expedition, and related ta 
the prince what he had seen. 

'^As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of 
the palace,^^ said he, ''I beheld through a casement a 
beautiful princess. She was reclining on a couch, with 
attendants and physicians around her, but she would 
none of their ministry and relief. When they retired I 
beheld her draw forth a letter from her bosom, and read, 
and kiss it, and give way to loud lamentations; at which, 
philosopher as I am, I could not but be greatly moved." 

The tender 'heart of Ahmed was distressed at these 
tidings. '*Too true were thy words, sage Ebon Bon- 
abbon!'^ cried he. '^Oare and sorrow, and sleepless 
nights are the lot of lovers. Allah preserve the princess 
from the blighting influence of this thing called love.'^ 

Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated the 
report of the owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and 
alarm. The princess was conveyed to the highest tower 
of the palace, every avenue to which was strongly 
guarded. In the meantime, a devouring melancholy had 
seized upon her, of which no one could divine the cause. 
She refused food, and turned a deaf ear to every conso- 
lation. The most skillful physicians had essayed their art 
in vain; it was thought some magic spell had been prac- 
ticed upon her, and the king made proclamation, declar- 
ing that whoever should effect her cure should receive 
the richest jewel in the royal treasury. 

When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of 
this proclamation, he rolled his large eyes and looked 
more mysterious than ever. 

"Allah Achbar!'' exclaimed he. ''Happy the man that 
shall effect that cure, should he but know what to choose 
from the royal treasury." 

''What mean you, most reverend owl?" said Ahmed. 

"Hearken, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls, 
you must know, are a learned body, and much given to 
dark and dusty research. During my late prowling at 



LEQEND Oi^ PIimCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 150 

night about the domes and turrets of Toledo I discov- 
ered a college of antiquarian owls, who hold their meet- 
ings in a great vaulted tower where the royal treasure is 
deposited. Here they were discussing the forms and 
inscriptions and designs of ancient gems and jewels, 
and of golden and silver vessels, heaped up m the 
treasury, the fashion of every country and age; but 
mostly they were interested about certain reliques and 
talismans, that have remained in the treasury since the 
time of Eoderick the Goth. Among these was a box of 
shittim wood, secured by bands of steel of Oriental work- 
manship, and inscribed with mystic characters known 
only to the learned few. This box and it& inscription 
had occupied the college for several sessions, and had 
caused much long and grave dispute. At the time of 
my visit a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived 
from Egypt, was seated on the lid of the box lecturing 
upon the inscription, and proved from it that the coffer 
contined the silken carpet of the throne of Solomon the 
Wise: which doubtless had been brought to Toledo by 
the Jews, who took refuge there after the downfall of 
Jerusalem.*^ 

When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue 
the prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. '*I 
have heard, '^ said he, ^'from the sage Ebon Bonabbon, 
of the wonderful properties of that talisman, which disap- 
peared at the fall of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be 
lost to mankind. Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery 
to the Christians of Toledo. If I can get possession of 
that carpet my fortune is secure.'^ 

The next day Lhe prince laid aside his rich attire and 
arrayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the 
desert. He dyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and 
no one could have recognized in him the splendid war- 
rior who had caused such admiration and dismay at the 
tournament. With staff in hand and scrip by his side, 
and a small pastoral reed, he repaired to Toledo, and 
presenting himself at the gate of the royal palace, an- 
nounced himself as a candidate for the reward offered for 
the cure of the princess. The guards would have driven 
him away with blows: *'What can a vagrant Arab like 
thyself pretend to do," said they, *'in a case where the 
most learned of the land have failed?'^ The king, how- 



160 TEE ALBAMBRA. 

ever, overheard the tumult, and ordered the Arab to be 
brought into his presence. 

^^Most potent king/^ said Ahmed, '^you behold before 
you a Bedouin Arab, the greater part of whose life has 
been passed in the solitudes of the desert. These soli- 
tudes, it is well known, are the haunts of demons and 
evil spirits, who beset us poor shepherds in our lonely 
watchings, enter into and possess our flocks and herds, 
and sometimes render even the patient camel furious. 
Against these, our countercharm is music; and we have 
legendary airs handed down from generation to genera- 
tion, that we chant and pipe to cast forth these evil 
spirits. I am of a gifted line, and possess this power in 
its fullest force. If it be any evil influence of the kind 
that holds a spell over thy daughter, I pledge ray head 
to free her from its sway." 

The king, who was a man of understanding and knew 
the wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was in- 
spired with hope by the confident language of the prince. 
He conducted him immediately to the lofty tower se- 
cured by several doors, in the summit of which was the 
chamber of the princess. The windows opened upon a 
terrace with balustrades, commanding a view over 
Toledo and all the surrounding country. The windows 
were darkened, for the princess lay within, a prey to a 
devouring grief that refused all alleviation. 

The prince seated himself on the terrace, and per- 
formed several wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, 
which he had learned from his attendants in the General- 
iffe at Granada. The princess continued insensible, 
and the doctors, who were present, shook their heads, 
and smiled with incredibility and contempt. At length 
the prince laid aside the reed, and to a simple melody 
chanted the amatory verses of the letter which had de- 
clared his passion. 

The princess recognized the strain. A fluttering joy 
stole to her heart; she raised her head and listened; tears 
rushed to her eyes and streamed down her cheeks; her 
bosom rose and fell with a tumult of emotions. She 
would have asked for the minstrel to be brought into her 
presence, but maiden coyness held her silent. The king 
read her wishes, and at his command Ahmed was con- 
ducted into the chamber* The lovers were discreet: 



LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 161 

they but exchanged glances, yet those glances spoke 
volumes. Never was triumph of music more completec 
The rose had returned to the soft cheek of the princess, 
the freshness to her lip. and the dewy light to her 
languishing eye. 

All the physicians present stared at each other with 
atstonishment. The king regarded the Arab minstrel 
with admiration, mixed with awe, '^Wonderful youth/* 
exclaimed he, ''thou shalt henceforth be the first physi- 
cian of my court, and no other prescription will I take 
but thy melody. For the present, receive thy reward, 
the most precious jewel in my treasury.** 

^'0 king,** replied Ahmed, "I care not for silver, or 
gold, or precious stones. One relique hast thou in thy 
treasury, handed down from the Moslems who once 
owned Toledo. A box of sandalwood containing a silken 
carpet. Give me that box, and I am content.** 

AH present were surprised at the moderation of the 
Arab, and still more, when the box of sandalwood was 
brought and the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine 
green silk, covered with Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. 
The court physicians looked at each other, shrugged 
their shoulders, and smiled at the simplicity of this new 
practitioner, who could be content with so paltry a fee. 

''This carpet,'* said the prince, '*once covered the 
throne of Solomon the Wise; it is worthy of being placed 
beneath the feet of beauty.** 

So saying,he spread it on the terrace beneath an ottoman 
that had been brought forth for the princess; then seat- 
ing himself at her feet: 

"Who,** said he, "shall counteract what is written in 
the book of fate? Behold the prediction of the astrolo- 
gers verified. Know^ king, that your daughter and I 
have long loved each other in secret. Behold in me the 
pilgrim of love.'* 

These words were scarcely from his lips when the 
carpet rose in the air, bearing off the priilce and princess. 
The king and the physicians gazed after it with open 
mouths and straining eyes, until it became a little speck 
on the white bosom of a cloud, and then disappeared in 
the blue vault of heaven. 

The king in a rage summoned his treasurer. "How is 
this,** said he, "that thou hast suffered an infidel to get 
possession of sucb a talismanl^'' 



i62 TEE ALHAMBBA. 

"Alas! sire, we knew not its nature, nor could we de* 
cipher the inscription of the box. If it be indeed the 
carpet of the throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed 
of magic power, and can transport its owner from place 
to place through the air/' 

The king assembled a mighty army, and set oflE for 
Granada in pursuit of the fugitives. His march *^as 
long and toilsome. Encamping in the Vega, he sent a 
herald to demand restitution of his daughter. The king 
himself came forth with all his court to meet him. In 
the king he beheld the Arab minstrel, for Ahmed had 
succeeded to the throne on the death of his father, and 
the beautiful Aldegonda was his sultana. 

The Christian king was easily pacified, when he fojnd 
that his daughter was suflfered to continue in her faith; 
not that he was particularly pious; but religion is always 
a point of pride and etiquette with princes. Instead of 
bloody battles, there was a succession of feasts and re- 
joicings; after which, the king returned well pleased to 
Toledo, and the youthful couple continued to reign as 
happily as wisely in the Alhambra. 

It is proper to add that the owl and the parrot hud 
severally followed the prince by easy stages to Granada — 
the former traveling by night, and stopping at the 
various hereditary possessions of his family; the latter 
figuring in the gay circles of every town and city on his 
route. 

Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had 
rendered him on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owl 
his prime minister, the parrot his master of ceremonies. 
It is needless to say that never was a realm more sagely 
administered or a court conducted with more exact 
punctilio. 



THE LEGEND OP THE ROSE OF THE 
ALHAMBKA- 

OR, 
THE PAGE AND THE GERFALCON. 

For some time after the surrender of Granada by the 
Moors that delightful city was a frequent and favorite 



LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 163 

tesidence of the Spanish sovereigns, until they were 
frightened away by successive shocks of earthquakes, 
which toppled down various houses and made the old 
Moslem towers rock to their foundation. 

Many, many years then rolled away, during which 
Granada was rarely honored by a royal guest. The 
palaces of the nobility remained silent and shut up; and 
the Alhambra, like a slighted beauty, sat in mournful 
desolation among her neglected gardens. The tower of 
the Infantas, once the residence of the three beautiful 
Moorish princesses, partook of the general desolation; and 
the spider spun her web athwart the gilded vault, and 
bats and owls nestled in those chambers that had been 
graced by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda. 
The neglect of the tower may partly have been owing to 
some superstitious notions of the neighbors. It was 
rumored that the spirit of the youthful Zorahayda, who 
had perished in that tower, was often seen by moonlight, 
seated beside the fountain in the hall or moaning about 
the battlements, and that the notes of her silver lute 
would be heard at midnight by wayfarers passing along 
the glen. 

At length the city of Granada was once more enlivened 
by the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip 
V* was the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish scepter. 
All the world knows that he married, in second nuptials, 
Elizabetta or Isabella (for they are the same), the beau- 
tiful Princess of Parma; and all the world knows that, by 
this chain of contingencies, a French prince and an 
Italian princess were seated together on the Spanish 
throne. For the reception of this illustrious pair, the 
Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with all possible ex- 
pedition. The arrival of the court changed the whole, 
aspect of the lately deserted place. The clangor of. 
drum and trumpet, the tramp of steed about the avenues 
and outer court, the glitter of arms and display of ban- 
ners about barbican and battlement, recalled the ancient 
and warlike glories of the fortress. A softer spirit, how- 
ever, reigned within the royal palace. There was the 
rustling of robes, and the cautious tread and murmuring 
voice of reverential courtiers about the antechambers; a 
loitering of pages and maids of honor about the gardens, 
•.nd the sound of music stealing from open casements. 



164 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Among those who attended in the train of the mon^ 
archs was a favorite page of the queen, named Euyz d© 
Alarcon. To say that he was a favorite page of the 
queen, was at once to speak his eulogium, for every one 
in the suit of the stately E^'aabetta was chosen for grace, 
and beauty, and accomplishments. He was just turned 
of eighteen, light and little of form, and graceful as a 
young Antinous. To the queen he was all deference 
and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish stripling, 
petted and spoiled by the ladies about the court, and ex* 
periencd in the ways of women far beyond his years. 

This loitering page was one morning rambling about 
the groves of the Generalise, which overlook the grounds 
of the Alhambra. He had taken with him for his 
amusement a favorite gerfalcon of the queen. In the 
course of his rambles, seeing a bird rising from a thicket, 
he unhooded the hawk and let him fly. The falcon tow- 
ered high in the air, made a swoop at his quarry, but 
missing it, soared away regardless of the calls of the 
page. The latter followed the truant bird with his eye 
m its capricious flight, until he saw it alight upon the 
battlements of a remote and lonely tower in the outer 
wall of the Alhambra, built on the edge of a ravine thai 
separated the royal fortress from the grounds of the 
Generalifle. It was, in fact, the "tower of the Prin- 
cesses.'^ 

The page descended into the ravine and approached 
the tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its 
lofty height rendered any attempt to scale it fruitless. 
Seeking one of the gates of the fortress, therefore, he 
made a wide circuit to that side of the tower facing 
within the walls. A small garden inclosed by a trellis- 
work of reeds overhung with myrtle lay before the tower. 
Opening a wicket, the page passed between beds of flow- 
ers and thickets of roses to the door. It was closed and 
bolted. A crevice in the door gave him a peep into the 
interior. There was a small Moorish hall with fretted 
walls, light marble columns, and an alabaster fountain 
surrounded with flowers. In the center hung a gilt cage 
containing a singing bird: beneath it, on a chair, lay a 
tortoise-shell cat among reels of silk and other articles of 
female labor, and a guitar, decorated with ribbons, leaned 
against the fountain. 



LEOENI) OP THE HOSE OF TEE ALHAMBEA, 165 

Euyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of female 
taste and elegance in a lonely and, as he had supposed^ 
deserted tower. They reminded him of the tales of en- 
chanted halls, current in the Alhambra; and the tortoise- 
shell cat might be some spell-bound princess. 

He knocked gently at the door — a beautiful face 
peeped out from a little window above, but was instantly 
withdrawn. He waited, expecting that the door would 
be opened; but he waited in vain: no footstep was to be 
heard within, all was silent. Had his senses deceived 
him, or was this beautiful apparition the fairy of the 
tower? He knocked again, and more loudly. After a 
little while the beaming face once more peeped forth: it 
was that of a blooming damsel of fifteen. 

The page immediately doCed his plumed bonnet, and 
entreated in the most courteous accents to be permitted 
to ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon. 

'*I dare not open the door, senor,'' replied the little 
damsel, blushing; ^^my aunt has forbidden it.'' 

^^I do beseech you, fair maid; it is the favorite falcon 
of the queen; I dare not return to the palace without it.'' 

^*Are you, then, one of the cavaliers of the court?" 

^^I am, fair maid; but I shall lose the queen's favor 
and my place if I lose this hawk." 

*'Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the court 
that my aunt has charged me especially to bar the door." 

^'Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am none 
of those, but a simple, harmless page, who will be ruined 
and undone if you deny me this small request." 

The heart of the little damsel was touched by the dis- 
tress of the page. It was a thousand pities he should be 
ruined for the want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, 
he could not be one of those dangerous beings whom her 
aunt had described as a species of cannibal, ever on the 
prowl to make prey of thoughtless damsels; he was gen- 
tie and modest, and stood so entreatingly with cap in 
hand, and looked so charming. The sly page saw that 
the garrison began to waver, and redoubled his entreaties 
in such moving terms that it was not in the nature of 
mortal maiden to deny him; so the blushing little 
warder of the tower descended and opened the door with 
a trembling hand; and if the page had been charmed by 
A mere glimpse of her countenance from the window, he 



166 ^^^ ALHAMBBA. 

was ravished by the full-length portrait now revealed to 
him. 

Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquina set off the 
round but delicate symmetry of her form, which was as 
yet scarce verging into womanhood. Her glossy hair 
was parted on her forehead with scrupulous exactness, 
and decorated with a fresh plucked rose, according toi 
the universal custom of the country. 1 

It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardor of a 
southern sun, but it served to give richness to the man- 
tling bloom of her cheek, and to heighten the luster of 
her melting eyes. Kuyz de Alarcon beheld all this with 
a single glance, for it became him not to tarry; he 
merely murmured his acknowledgments, and then 
bounded lightly up the spiral staircase in quest of his 
falcon. He soon returned with the truant bird upon his 
.fist. The damsel, in the meantime, had seated herself by 
the fountain in the hall, and was winding silk; but in 
her agitation she let fall the reel upon the pavement. 
The page sprang, picked it up, then dropping gracefully 
on one knee presented it to her, but seizing the hand ex- 
tended to receive it, imprinted on it a kiss more fervent 
and devout than he had ever imprinted on the fair hand 
of his sovereign. 

''Ave Maria! sefior!'^ exclaimed the damsel, blushing 
still deeper with confusion and surprise, for never before 
had she received such a salutation. 

The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring 
her it was the way, at court, of expressing the most pro- 
found homage and respect. 

Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified; but 
her agitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat 
blushing deeper and deeper, with her eyes cast down 
upon her work, entangling the silk which she attempted 
to wind. ' 

The cunning page saw the confusion in the opposite 
camp, and would fain have profited by it, but the fine 
speeches he would have uttered died upon his lips; his 
attempts at gallantry were awkward and ineffectual; and 
to his surprise, the adroit page who had figured with 
such grace and effrontery among the most knowing and 
experienced ladies of the court, found himself awed and 
abashed iu the presence of a simple damsel of fifteen. 



LEGEnD O'F TEE EOSE OF TEE ALEAMBEA. 167 

In fact, the artless maiden in her own modesty and in- 
nocence had guardians more effectual than the bolts and 
bars prescribed by her vigilant aunt. Still, where is the 
female bosom proof against the first whisperings of love? 
The little damsel, with all her artlessness, instinctively 
comprehended all that the faltering tongue of the page 
failed to express, and her heart was fluttered at behold- 
ing, for the first time, a lover at her feet — and such a 
lover! 

The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short* 
lived, and he was recovering his usual ease and confi- 
dence, when a shrill voice was heard at a distance. 

'^My aunt is returning from mass!^^ cried the damsel 
in affright. ^'I pray you, senor, depart.^^ 

''Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a 
remembrance." 

She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks. 
''Take it,'' cried she, agitated and blushing, "but pray 
begone/' 

The page took the rose, and at the same time covered 
with kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then placing the 
flower in his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist> 
he bounded off through the garden, bearing away with 
him the heart of the gentle Jacinta. 

When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she re- 
marked the agitation of her niece, and an air of confu- 
sion in the hall; but a word of explanation sufficed. "A 
gerfalcon had pursued his prey into the hall." 

"Mercy on us! To think of a falcon flying into the 
tower. Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, 
the very bird in the cage is not safe." 

The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of 
ancient spinsters. She had a becoming terror and dis- 
trust of what she denominated "the opposite sex," which 
had gradually increased through a long life of celibacy. 
Not that the good lady had ever suffered from their 
wiles, nature having set up a safeguard in her face that 
forbade all trespass upon her premises; but ladies who 
have least cause to fear for themselves are most ready 
to keep a watch over their more tempting neighbors. 
The niece was the orphan of an officer who had fallen in 
the wars. She had been educated in a convent, and had 
recently been transferred from her sacred asylum to the 



168 THE ALHAMBRA. 

immediate guardianship of her aunt, under Tfhose over* 
shadowing care she vegetated in obscurity, like an open- 
ing rose blooming beneath a brier. Nor, indeed, is this 
comparison entirely accidental, for to tell the truth her 
fresh and dawning beauty had caught the public eye, 
even in her seclusion, and with that poetical turn common 
to the people of Andalusia, the peasantry of the neighbor- 
hood had given her the appellation of ''The Eose of the 
Alhambra/^ 

The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over 
her tempting little niece as long as the court continued 
at Granada, and flattered herself that her vigilance had 
been successful. It is true, the good lady was now and 
then discomposed by the tinkling of guitars and chant- 
ing of love ditties from the moonlit groves beneath the 
tower, but she would exhort her niece to shut her ears 
against such idle minstrelsy, assuring her that it was one 
of the arts of the opposite sex, by which simple maids 
were often lured to their undoing — alas, what chance 
with a simple maid has a dry lecture against a moonlight 
serenade! 

At length King Philip cut short his sojourn at Gra- 
nada, and suddenly departed with all his train. The vigi- 
lant Fredegonda watched the royal pageant as it issued 
forth from the gate of Justice and descended the great 
avenue leading to the city. When the last banner disap- 
peared from her sight she returned exulting to her 
tower, for all her cares were over. To her surprise, a 
light Arabian steed pawed the ground at the wicket gate 
of the garden — to her horror she saw through the thickets 
of roses a youth, in gayly embroidered dress, at the feet 
of her niece. At the sound of her footsteps he gave a 
tender adieu, bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds 
and myrtles, sprang upon his horse, and was out of sight 
in an instant. 

The tender Jacinta in the agony of her grief lost all 
thought of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself 
into her arms, she broke forth into sobs and tears. 

''Ay di mi!" cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and 
I shall never see him more.'' 

"Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at your 
f^et?" 

^*A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid we farewell/^ 



LRQEXD OF TUr HOSE OF THE AlffAMBRA. 169 

'^A queen's page, child," echoed the vigihmt Frede- 
gonda faintly, and when did you become acquainted 
with a queen's page?" 

'^The morning that the gerfalcon flew into the tower. 
It was the queen's gerfalcon, and he came in pursuit of 
it/^ 

'*Ah, silly, silly girl! know that there are no ger- 
falcons half so dangerous as these prankling pages, and 
it is precisely such simple birds as thee that they pounce 
upon/' 

The aunt was at first indignant at learning that, in 
despite of her boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse 
had been carried on by the youthful lovers, almost be- 
neath her eye; but when she found that her simple- 
hearted niece, though thus exposed, without the protec- 
tion of bolt or bar, to all the machinations of the opposite 
sex, had come forth unsinged from the fiery ordeal, she 
consoled herself with the persuasion that it ^vas owing to 
the chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, as it 
were, steeped her to the very lips. 

While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, 
the niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity 
of the page. But what is the love of restless, roving 
man? a vagrant stream that dallies for a time with each 
flower upon its banks, then passes on and leaves them all 
in tears. 

Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was 
heard of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine 
yielded up its fruit, the autumnal rains descended in 
torrents from the mountains; the Sierra Nevada became 
covered with a snowy mantle, and wintry blasts howled 
through the halls of the Alhambra: still he came not. 
The winter passed away. Again the genial spring burst 
forth with song, and blossoms, and balmy zephyr; the 
snows melted from the mountains, until none remained 
but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, glistening 
through the sultry summer air: still nothing was heard 
of the forgetful page. 

In the meantime, the poor little Jacinta grew pale and 
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements 
were abandoned; her silk lay entangled, her guitar un- 
strung, her flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird 
unheeded, and her eyes, once so bright, v:ere dimmed 



170 1'SE ALHAMBRA. 

with Becret weeping. If any solitude could be deTis©<i 
to foster the passion of a love-lorn damsel, it would be 
such a place as the Alhambra, where everything seems 
disposed to produce tender and romantic reveries. It in 
a very paradise for lovers; how hard then to be alone in 
such a paradise; and not merely alone, but forsaken. 

''Alas, silly child !'^ would the staid and immaculate 
Fredegonda say, when she found her niece in one of hei 
desponding moods, "did I not warn thee against the 
wiles and deceptions of these men? What couldst thou ex- 
pect, too, from one of a haughty and aspiring family, thou, 
an orphan, the descendant of a fallen and impoverished 
line; be assured, if the youth were true, his father, who 
is one of the proudest nobles about the court, would pro- 
hibit his union with one so humble and portionless as 
thou. Pluck up thy resolution, therefore, and drive 
these idle notions from thy mind.'* 

The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only served to 
increase the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to in- 
dulge it in private. At a late hour one midsummer night, 
after her aunt had retired to rest, she remained alone in the 
hall of the tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. 
It was here that the faithless page had first knelt and 
kissed her hand, it was here that he had often vowed 
eternal fidelity. The poor little damsePs heart was over- 
laden with sad and tender recollections, her tears began 
to flow, and slowly fell, drop by drop, into the fountain. 
By degrees the crystal water became agitated, and, 
bubble — bubble — bubble, boiled up, and was tossed about 
until a female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly 
rose to view. 

Jacinta was so frightened that she fled from the hall, 
and did not venture to return. The next morning she 
related what she had seen to her aunt, but the good lady 
treated it as a fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed 
she had fallen asleep and dreamed beside the fountain. 
"Thou hast been thinking of the story of the three 
Moorish princesses that once inhabited the tower,** con- 
tinued she, "and it has entered into thy dreams.** 

"What story, aunt? I know nothing of it.** 

"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, 
Zayda, Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in 
this tower by the king their father, and agreed to fly 



LEGEND OF THE JxObE OF TRK ALHAMBEA 1^1 

with three Christian cavaliers. The first two accom- 
plished their escape, but the third failed in resolntion 
and remained, and it is said died in this tower." 

''I now recollect to have heard of it/^ said Jacinta, 
*^and to have wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda." 

''Thou mayst well weep over her fate/' continued the 
aunt, ''for the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. 
He long bemoaned his Moorish love, but time cured him 
of his grief, and he married a Spanish lady, from whom 
thou art descended. '^ 

Jacinta ruminated upon these words. "That what 1 
have seen is no fantasy of the brain, '^ said she to herself, 
"I am confident. If indeed it be the sprite of the gentle 
Zorahayda, which I have heard lingers about this tower, 
of what should I be afraid? I'll watch by the fountain 
to-night, perhaps the visit will be repeated.'' 

Toward midnight, when everything was quiet, she 
again took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the dis- 
tant watch-tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight 
hour the fountain was again agitated, and bubble — 
bubble — bubble, it tossed about the waters until the 
Moorish female again rose to view. She was young and 
beautiful; her dress was rich with jewels, and in her 
hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and was 
faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice 
of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale, 
melancholy countenance. 

"Daughter of Mortality," said she, "what aileth thee? 
Why do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs 
and plaints disturb the quiet watches of the night?" 

"I weep because of the faithlessness of man; and I be- 
moan my solitary and forsaken state." 

"Take comfort, thy sorrows may yet have an end. 
Thou beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was 
unhappy in her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, 
won my heart and would have borne me to his native 
land, and to the bosom of his church. I was a convert 
in my heart, but I lacked courage equal to my faith, and 
lingered till too late. For this, the evil genii are per- 
mitted to have power over me, and I remain enchanted in 
this tower, until some pure Christian will deign to break 
the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?'^ 

"I will!" replied the damsel, trembling. 



17^ THE ALHAMBMA. 

*Tome hither, then, and fear not: dip thy hand in the 
fountain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me 
after the manner of thy faith; so shall the enchantment 
be dispelled, and my troubled spirit have repose/'' 

The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her 
hand in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and 
sprinkled it over the pale face of the phantom. 

The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She 
dropped her silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her 
white arms upon her bosom, and melted from sight, so 
that it seemed merely as if a shower of dewdrops had 
fallen into the fountain. 

Jacinta retired from the hall, filled with awe and won- 
der. She scarcely closed her eyes that night, but when 
she awoke at daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the 
whole appeared to her like a distempered dream. On 
descending into the hall, however, the truth of the vision 
was established; for beside the fountain she beheld the 
silver lute glittering in the morning sunshine. 

She hastened to her aunt, related all that had befallen 
her and called her to behold the lute as a testimonial of 
the reality of her story. If the good lady had any linger- 
ing doubts they were removed when Jacinta touched the 
instrument, for she drew forth such ravishing tones as to 
thaw even the frigid bosom of the immaculate Frede- 
gonda, that region of eternal winter, into a genial flow. 
Nothing but supernatural melody could have produced 
such an effect. 

The extraordinary power of the lute became every day 
more and more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the 
tower was detained, and, as it were, spellbound, in 
breathless ecstasy. The very birds gathered in the 
neighboring trees and, hushing their own strains, lis- 
tened in charmed silence. Rumor soon spread the news 
abroad. The inhabitants of Granada thronged to the 
Alhambra, to catch a few notes of the transcendent 
music that floated about the tower of Las Infantas. 

The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn forth 
from her retreat. The rich and powerful of the land 
contended who should entertain and do honor to her; 
or rather, who should secure the charms of her lute, 
to draw fashionable throngs to their saloons. Wherever 
she went her vigilant aunt kept a dragon-watch at her 



LEGEFD OF THE BOSE OF TEE AlHAMBRA. 173 

c^lbow, awing the throngs of impassioned admirers who 
hung in raptures on her strains. The report of her won- 
derful powers spread from city to city: Malaga, Seville, 
Cordova, all became successively mad on the theme; 
nothing was talked of throughout Andalusia but the 
beautiful minstrel of the Alhambra. How could it be 
otherwise among a people so musical and gallant as the 
Andalusians, when the lute was magical in its powers^ 
and the minstrel inspired by love? 

While all Andalusia was thus music-mad, a different 
mood prevailed at the court of Spain. Philip V., as is 
well known, was a miserable hypochondriac, and subject 
to all kinds of fancies. Sometimes he would keep to hid 
bed for weeks together, groaning under imaginary com- 
plaints. At other times he would insist upon abdicating 
his throne, to the great annoyance of his royal spouse, 
who had a strong relish for the splendors of a court ana 
the glories of a crown, and guided the scepter of her 
imbecile lord with an expert and steady hand. 

Nothing was found to be so efficacious m dispelling 
the royal megrims as the powers of music; the queen 
took care, therefore, to have the best performers, botn 
vocal and instrumental, at hand, and retained the famous 
Italian singer Farinelli about the court as a kind of royal 
physician. 

At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come 
over the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon 
that surpassed all former vagaries. After a long spell of 
imaginary illness, which set all the strains of Farinelli 
and the consultations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers 
at defiance, the monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the 
ghost, and considered himself absolutely dead. 

This would have been harmless enough, and even con- 
venient both to his queen and courtiers, had he been 
content to remain in the quietude befitting a dead man; 
but, to their annoyance, he insisted upon having the 
funeral ceremonies performed over him and, to their in- 
expressible perplexity, began to grow impatient, and to 
revile bitterly at them for negligence and disrespect in 
leaving him unburied. What was to be done? To dis- 
obey the king's positive commands was monstrous in the 
eyes of the obsequious courtiers of a punctilious court — 
but to obey him, and bury hiia alive, would be down- 
right regicide! 



174 THE ALHAMBRA, 

In the midst of this fearful dilemma a rumor reached 
the court of the female minstrel, who was turning the 
brains of all Andalusia. The queen dispatched missivea 
in all haste, to summon her to St. Ildefonso, where th^ 
court at that time resided. 

Within a few days, as the queen with her maids oi 
honor was walking in those stately gardens, intended^ 
with their avenues and terraces and fountains, to eclipse 
the glories of Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was con- 
ducted into her presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed 
with surprise at the youthful and unpretending appear- 
ance of the little being that had set the world madding. 
She was in her picturesque Andalusian dress; her silver 
lute was in her hand, and she stood with modest and 
downcast eyes, but with a simplicity and freshness of 
beauty that still bespoke her ''The Rose of the Al- 
hambra.^^ 

As usual, she was accompanied by the ever vigilant 
Fredegonda, who gave the whole history of her parentage 
and descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately 
Elizabetta had been interested by the appearance of 
Jacinta, she was still more pleased when she learned that 
she was of a meritorious, though impoverished line, and 
that her father had bravely fallen in the service of the 
crown. *'If thy powers equal their renown,'^ said she, 
''and thou canst cast forth the evil spirit that possesses 
thy sovereign, thy fortune shall henceforth be my care, 
and honors and wealth attend thee.'^ 

Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way 
at once to the apartment of the moody monarch. Jacinta 
followed with downcast eyes through files of guards and 
crowds of courtiers. They arrived at length at a great 
chamber hung in black. The windows were closed, to 
exclude the light of day; a number of yellow wax tapers, 
in silver sconces, diffused a lugubrious light, and dimly 
revealed the figures of mutes in mourning dresses, and 
courtiers, who glided about with uoiseless step and woe- 
begone visage. On the midst of a funeral bed or bier, 
his hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his nose 
just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch. 

The queen entered the chamber in silence, and point- 
ing to a footstool in an obscure corner, beckoned t^ 
Jacinta to sit down and commence. 



LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA I'^o 

At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, 
but gathering confidence and animation as she pro- 
ceeded, drew forth such soft, aerial harmony that all 
present could scarce believe it mortal. As to the mon- 
arch, who had already considered himself in the world 
of spirits, he set it down for some angelic melody, or the 
music of the spheres. By degrees the theme was varied, 
and the voice of the minstrel accompanied the instru- 
ment. She poured forth one of the legendary ballads 
treating of the ancient glories of the Alhambra and the 
achievements of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into 
the theme, for with the recollections of the Alhambra was. 
associated the story of her love; the funereal chamber 
resounded with the animating strain. It entered into 
the gloomy heart of the monarch. He raised his head 
and gazed around, he sat up on his couch; his eye began 
to kindle; at length, leaping upon the floor, he called 
for sword and buckler. 

The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted 
lute, was complete; the demon of melancholy was cast 
forth; and, as it were, a dead man brought to life. The 
windows of the apartment were thrown open; the glori- 
ous effulgence of Spanish sunshine burst into the late 
lugubrious chamber; all eyes sought the lovely enchant- 
ress, but the lute had fallen from her hand; she had 
sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was clasped 
to the bosom of Kuyz de Alarcon. 

The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after 
celebrated with great splendor — but hold, I hear the 
reader ask how did Euyz de Alarcon account for his long 
neglect? Oh — that was all owing to the opposition of a 
proud pragmatical old father — besides, young people who 
really like one another soon come to an amicable under- 
standing, and bury all past grievances whenever they 
meet. 

But how was the proud pragmatical old father recon- 
ciled to the match? 

Oh, his scruples were easily overruled by a word or 
two from the queen — especially as dignities and rewards 
were showered upon the blooming favorite of royalty. 
Besides, the lute of Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic 

Eower, and could control the most stubborn head and 
ardest heart. 



176 THE ALBAMBRA. 

And what became of the enchanted lute? 

Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly 
proves the truth of all the story. That lute remained for 
some time in the family, but was purloined and carried 
off, as was supposed, by the great singer Farinelli, in 
pure jealousy. At his death it passed into other hands 
in Italy, who were ignorant of its mystic powers, and 
melting down the silver, transferred the strings to an old 
(Jremona fiddle. The strings still retain something of 
their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, but let 
it go no further — that fiddle is now bewitching the whole 
world — it is the fiddle of Paganini! 



THE VETERAN. 

Among the curious acquaintances I have made in my 
rambles about the fortress is a brave and battered old 
colonel of invalids, who is nestled like a hawk in one of 
the Moorish towers. His history, which he is fond of 
telling, is a tissue of those adventures, mishaps, and 
vicissitudes that render the life of almost every Spaniard 
of note as varied and whimsical as the pages of Gil Bias. 

He was in America at twelve years of age, and reckons 
among the most signal and fortunate events of his life, his 
having seen General Washington. Since then he has 
taken a part in all the wars of his country; he can speak 
experimentally of most of the prisons and dungeons of 
the peninsula, has been lamed of one leg, crippled in 
his hand, and so cut up and carbonadoed that he is a 
kind of walking monument of the troubles of Spain, on 
which there is a scar for every battle and broil, as every 
year was notched upon the tree of Eobinson Crusoe. 
The greatest misfortune of the brave old cavalier, how- 
ever, appears to have been his having commanded at 
Malaga during a time of peril and confusion, and been 
made a general by the inhabitants to protect them from 
the invasion of the French. 

This has entailed upon him a number of just claims 
upon government that I fear will employ him until his 
dying day in writing and printing petitions and memo- 
rials, to the great disquiet of his mind, exhaustion of his 



THE VETERAN. 177 

purse, and penance of his friends, not one of whom can 
visit him without having to listen to a mortal document 
of half an hour in length, and to carry away half a dozen 
pamphlets in his pocket. This, however, is the case 
throughout Spain: everywhere you meet with some 
worthy wight brooding in a corner, and nursing up some 
pet grievance and cherished wrong. Besides, a Spaniard 
who has a lawsuit, or a claim upon government, may be 
considered as furnished with employment for the re- 
mainder of his life. 

I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part 
of the Terre del Vino, or Wine Tower. His room was 
small but snug, and commanded a beautiful view of the 
Vega. It was arranged with a soldier's precision. Three 
muskets and a brace of pistols, all bright and shining, 
were suspended against the wall, with a saber and a cane 
hanging side by side, and above these two cocked hats, 
one for parade, and one for ordinary use. A small shelf, 
containing some half-dozen books, formed his library, 
one of which, a little old moldy volume of philosoph- 
ical maxims, was his favorite reading. This he thumbed 
and pondered over day by day; applying every maxim to 
his own particular case, provided it had a little tinge of 
wholesome bitterness, and treated of the injustice of the 
world. 

Yet he is social and kind-hearted, and, provided he 
can be diverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, is an 
entertaining companion. I like these old weather-beaten, 
sons of fortune, and enjoy their rough campaigning anec- 
dotes. In the course of my visit to the one in question, 
I learned some curious facts about an old military com- 
mander of the fortress, who seems to have resembled 
him in some respects, and to have had similar fortunes 
in the wars. These particulars have been augmented by 
inquiries among some of the old inhabitants of the place, 
particularly the father Df Mateo Ximenes, of whose 
traditional stories the worthy I am about to introduce to 
the reader is a favorite hero. 



178 THE ALHAMBRA. 

THE GOVEENOE AND THE NOTAEY. 

Ik former times there ruled, as governor of the Al« 
"nambra, a doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost 
one arm in the wars, was commonly known by the name 
of El Gobernador Manco, or the one-armed governorc 
He in fact prided himself upon being an old soldier, wore 
his mustachios curled up to his eyes, a pair of campaign- 
ing boots, and a toledo as long as a spit, with his pocket 
handkerchief in the basket-hilt. 

He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, 
and tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Under 
his swav, the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal 
residence and domain, were rigidly exacted. No one 
was permitted to enter the fortress with firearms, or 
even with a sword or staff, unless he were of a certain 
rank, and every horseman was obliged to dismount at the 
gate and lead Ms horse by the bridle. Now, as the hill 
of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the city of 
Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capital, 
it must at all times be somewhat irksome to the captain- 
general who commands the provinc, to have thus an 
imperium in imperio, a petty, independent post in the 
very core of his domains. It was rendered the more 
galling in the present instance, from the irritable jealousy 
of the old governor, that took fire on the least question 
of authority and jurisdiction, and from the loose, vagrant 
character of the people that had gradually nestled them- 
selves within the fortress as in a sanctuary, and from 
thence carried on a system of roguery and depredation 
at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city. 
Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning be- 
tween the captain-general and the governor; the more 
virulent on the part of the latter, inasmuch as the small- 
est of two neighboring potentates is always the most 
captious about his dignity. The stately palace of the 
captain-general stood in the Plaza Nueva, immediately 
at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra, and here was 
always a bustle and parade of guards, and domestics, and 
city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the fortress 
overlooked the palace and the public square in front of 
it; and on this bastion the old governor would occasion- 
ally strut backward and forward, with his toledo girded 



THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY, 179 

by his side, keeping a wary eye down upon his rival, like 
a hawk reconnoitering his quarry from his nest in a dry 
iree. 

Whenever he descended into the city it was in grand 
parade, on horseback, surrounded by his guards, or in 
his state coach, an ancient and unwieldy Spanish edifice 
of carved timber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mules, 
with running footmen, outriders, and lackeys, on which 
occasions he flattered himself he impressed every be- 
holder with awe and admiration as vicegerent of the 
king, though the wits of Granada, particularly those 
who loitered about the palace of the captain-general, 
were apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in allusion to 
the vagrant character of his subjects, to greet him with 
the appellation of ^*the king of the beggars/^ 

One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between 
these two doughty rivals was the right claimed by the 
governor to have all things passed free of duty through 
the city, that were intended for the use of himself or 
his garrison. By degrees, this privilege had given rise to 
extensive smuggling. A nest of contrabandistas took up 
their abode in the hovels of the fortress and the numer- 
ous caves in its vicinity, and drove a thriving business 
under the connivance of the soldiers of the garrison. 

The vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He 
consulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, med- 
dlesome Escribano or notary, who rejoiced in an oppor- 
tunity of perplexing the old potentate of the Alhambra, 
and involving him in a maze of legal subtilities. He ad- 
vised the captain-general to insist upon the right of ex- 
amining every convoy passing through the gates of his 
city, and he penned a long letter for him, in vindication 
of the right. Governor Manco was a straightforward, 
')ut-and-thrust old soldier, who hated an Escribano worse 
than the devil, and this one in particular, worse than all 
other Escribanoes. 

''What!'^ said he, curling up his mustachios fiercely, 
"does the captain-general set his man of the pen to 
practice confusions upon me? I'll let him see that an 
old soldier is not to be baffled by Schoolcraft.'' 

He seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a 
crabbed hand, in which, without deigning to enter into 
argument, he insisted on the right of transit free ot 



180 TBE ALEAMBUA. 

search, and denounced vengeance on any custom-honse 
officer who should lay his unhallowed hand on any con- 
voy protected by the nag of the Alhambra. 

While this question was agitated between the two 
pragmatical potentates, it so happened that a mule laden 
with supplies for the fortress arrived one day at the gate 
of Xenil, by which it was to traverse a suburb of the city 
on its way to the Alhambra. The convoy was headed by 
a testy old corporal, who had long served under the 
governor, and was a man after his own heart — as trusty 
and stanch as an old toledo blade. As they approached 
the gate of the city, the corporal placed the banner of 
the Alhambra on the pack saddle of the mule, and draw- 
ing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced with 
his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side 
glance of a cur passing through hostile grounds, and 
ready for a snap and a snarl. 

^'Who goes there ?'^ said the sentinel at the gate. 

''Soldier of the Alhambra,'^ said the corporal, with- 
out turning his head. 

*'What have you in charge?^* 

* ^Provisions for the garrison.*' 

'Troceed.^' 

The corporal marched straight forward, followed by 
the convoy, but had not advanced many paces before a 
posse of custom-house oflBcers rushed out of a small toll- 
house. 

^'Halloo there!'* cried the leader: '^Muleteer, halt and 
open those packages.*' 

The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in 
battle array. ^'Eespect the flag of the Alhambra," said 
he; ''these things are for the govornor." 

"A fig for the governor, and a fig for his flag. Mule- 
teer, halt, I say." 

"Stop the convoy at your peril!" cried the corporal, 
cocking his musket. "Muleteer, proceed." 

The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the 
custom-house officer sprang forward and seized the 
halter; whereupon the corporal leveled his piece and 
shot him dead. 

The street was immediately in an uproar. The old 
corporal was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks 
and cuffs, and cudgelings, which are generally given 



THE GOVERJ^OIi AND TEE NOTARY. 181 

impromptu by the mob in Spain, as a foretaste of the after 
penalties of the law, he was loaded with irons, and con- 
ducted to the city prison; while his comrades were per- 
mitted to proceed with the convoy, after it had been well 
rummaged, to the Alhambra. 

The old governor was in a towering passion, when he 
heard of this insult to his flag and capture of his cor* 
poral. For a time he stormed about the Moorish halls, 
and vapored about the bastions, and looked down fire 
and sword upon the palace of the captain-general. Hav- 
ing vented the first ebullition of his wrath, he dispatched 
a message demanding the surrender of the corporal, as 
to him alone belonged the right of sitting in judgment 
on the offenses of those under his command. The cap- 
tain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted Escri- 
bano, replied at great length, arguing that as the offense 
had been committed within the walls of his city, and 
against one of his civil officers, it was clearly within his 
proper jurisdiction. The governor rejoined by a repeti- 
tion of his demand; the captain-general gave a sur- 
rejoinder of still greater length, and legal acumen; the 
governor became hotter and more peremptory in his de- 
mands, and the captain-general cooler and more copious 
in his replies; until the old lion-hearted soldier abso- 
lutely roared with fury at being thus entangled in the 
meshes of legal controversy. 

While the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself 
at the expense of the governor, he was conducting the 
trial of the corporal; who, mewed up in a narrow dun- 
geon of the prison, had merely a small grated window at 
which to show his iron-bound visage, and receive the con- 
solations of his friends; a mountain of written testimony 
was diligently heaped up, according to Spanish form, by 
the indefatigable Escribano; the corporal was completely 
overwhelmed by it. He was convicted of murder, and 
sentenced to be hanged. 

It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance 
and menace from the Alhambra. The fatal day was at 
hand, and the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, 
in the chapel of the prison; as is always done with cul- 
prits' the day before execution, that they may meditate 
on their approaching end and repent them of their sins- 

Seeing things drawing to an extremity* the old sf^* 



182 THE ALHAMBHA. 

ernor determined to attend to the affair in person. For 
this purpose he ordered out his carriage of state and, 
surrounded by his guards, rumbled down the avenue of 
the Alhambra into the city. Driving to the house of 
the Escribano, he summoned him to the portal. 

T'le eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at be- 
holding the smirking man of the law advancing with an 
air of exultation. 

''What is this I hear/' cried he, '^that you are about 
to put to death one of my soldiers?'' 

''All according to law — all in strict form of justice/' 
said the self-sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing 
his hands. "I can show your excellency the written 
testimony in the case." 

"Fetch it hither/' said the governor. 

The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with 
having another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity 
at the expense of the hard-headed veteran. He returned 
with a satchel full of papers, and began to read a long 
deposition with professional volubility. By this time a 
crowd had collected, listening with outstretched necks 
and gaping mouths. 

"Prithee man, get into the carriage out of this pesti- 
lent throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the 
governor. 

The Escribano entered the carriage, when in a twin- 
kling the door was closed, the coachman smacked his 
whip, mules, carriage, guards, and all dashed off at a 
thundering rate, leaving the crowd in gaping wonder- 
ment, nor did the governor pause until he had lodged 
his prey in one of the strongest dungeons of the Al- 
hambia. 

He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, pro- 
posing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for 
the notary. The pride of the captain-general was piqued, 
he returned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith 
caused a gallows, tall and strong, to be erected in the 
center of the Plaza Neuva, for the execution of the 
corporal. 

"Oho! Is that the game?" said Governor Manco: he 
gave orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared on the 
verge of the great beetling bastion that overlooked the 
Plaza. "NoWt" said he, in a message to the captain- 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 183 

i^eneral, *^hang my soldier when you please; but at the 
same time that he is swung off in the square, look up to 
see your Escribano dangling against the sky/* 

The captain-general was inflexible; troops were 
paraded in the square; the drums beat; the bell tolled; 
an immense mulitude of amateurs had collected to be- 
hold the execution; on the other hand, the governor 
paraded his garrison on the bastion, and tolled the 
funeral dirge of the notary from the Torre de la Cam- 
pana, or tower of the bell. 

The notary's wife pressed through the crowd with a 
whole progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels, 
and throwing herself at the feet of the captain-general 
implored him not to sacrifice the life of her husband 
and the welfare of herself and her numerous little ones 
to a point of pride; ^'for you know the old governor too 
well," said she, *'to doubt that he will put his threat in 
execution if you hang the soldier.'' 

The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and 
lamentations, and the clamors of her callow brood. 
The corporal was sent up to the Alhambra under a guards 
in his gallows garb, like a hooded friar; but with head 
erect and a face of iron. The Escribano w^as demanded 
in exchange, according to the cartel. The once bustling 
and self-sufficient man of the law was drawn forth from 
his dungeon, more dead than alive. All his flippancy 
and conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is said, had 
nearly turned gray with fright, and he had a downcast, 
dogged look, as if he still felt the halter round his neck. 

The old governor stuck his one arm akimbo, and for a 
moment surveyed him wuth an iron smile. ''Henceforth, 
my friend,'' said he, ^'moderate your zeal in hurrying 
others to the gallows; be not too certain of your own 
safety, even though you should have the law on your 
side; and, above all, take care how you play off your 
Bchoolcraft another time upon an old soldier." 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 

When Governor Manco, or the one-armed, kept up a 
show of military state in the Alhambra, he became net* 



184 TEE aLeambha. 

tied at the reproaches continually cast npon his fortress 
of being a nestling place of rogues and contrabandistas* 
On a sudden, the old potentate determined on reform, 
and setting vigorously to work, ejected whole nests of 
vagabonds out of the fortress and the gypsy caves with 
which the surrounding hills are honeycombed. He sent 
out soldiers, also, to patrol the avenues and footpaths, 
with orders to take up all suspicious persons. 

One bright summer morning a patrol consisting of 
the testy old corporal who had distinguished himself in 
the affair of the notary, a trumpeter and two privates 
were seated under the garden wall of the Generaliffe, be- 
side the road which leads down from the Mountain of 
the Sun, when they heard the tramp of a horses and a 
male voice singing in rough, though not unmusical tones, 
an old Oastilian campaigning song. 

Presently they beheld a sturdy, sunburnt fellow clad 
in the ragged garb of a foot-soldier leading a powerful 
Arabian horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 

Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier, descend- 
ing, steed in hand, from that solitary mountain, the 
i^orporal stepped forth and challenged him. 

^'Who goes there ?^' 

'^A friend/^ 

**Who and what are you?'* 

**A poor soldier, just from the wars, with a cracked 
crown and empty purse for a reward/' 

By this time they were enabled to view him more nar- 
rowly. He had a black patch across hia forehead, which 
v/ith a grizzled beard added to a certain dare-devil cast 
of countenance, while a slight squint threw into the whole 
an occasional gleam of roguish good-humor. 

Having answered the questions of the patrol, the 
soldier seemed to consider himself entitled to make 
others in return. 

i *'May I ask,'* said he, '%hat city is this which I see 
at thefoot of the hill?'' 

''What cityl** cried the trumpeter; *'come, that's too 
bad. Here's a fellow lurking about the Mountain of the 
Sun, and demands the name of the great city of Granada," 

'•Granadal Madre de Dios! can it be possible!'^ 

''Perhaps not!" rejoined the trumpeter, "and perhaps 
you have x\Q ii}^^ tb^t yotjder are the tow^r^ of the 41- 



GOVERyon MANCO AND THE SOLDIER. 183 

'Son of a trumpet/' replied the stranger^ **do not 
trifle with me; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have 
some strange matters to reveal to the governor.'^ 

''You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, 
'•for we mean to take you before him." 

By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle of 
the steed, the two privates had each secured an arm of 
the soldier, the corporal put himself in front, gave the 
word, ' 'forward march I" and away they marched for the 
Alhambra. 

The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian 
horse brought in captive by the patrol attracted the at- 
tention of all the idlers of the fortress, and of those 
gossip groups that generally assemble about wells and 
fountains at earlv dawn. The wheel of the cistern 
paused in its rotations; the slipshod servant-maid stood 
gaping with pitcher in hand, as the corporal passed by 
with his prize. A motley train gradually gathered in 
the rear of the escort. Knowing nods, and winks, and 
conjectures passed from one to another. It is a deserter, 
said one; a contrabandista, said another; a bandalero, 
said a third, until it was aflBrmed that a captain of a 
desperate band of robbers had been captured by the 
prowess of the corporal and his patrol. **Well, well," 
said the old crones one to another, ''captain or not, let 
him get out of the grasp of old Governor Manco if he 
can, though he is but one-handed." 

Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls 
of the Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of chocolate 
in company with his confessor, a fat Franciscan friar 
from the neighboring convent. A demure, dark-eyed 
damsel of Malaga, the daughter of his housekeeper, was 
attending upon him. 

The world hinted that the damsel, who with all her 
demureness was a sly, buxom baggage, had found out a 
soft spot in the iron heart of the old governor, and held 
complete control over him — but let that pass; the domes- 
tic affairs of these mighty potentates of the earth should 
not be too narrowly scrutinized. 

When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had 
been taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually 
in the outer court, in durance of the corporal, waiting 
the pleasure of bis excellency, the pride and stateliuess 



186 THE ALBAMBRA. 

of office swelled the bosom of the governor. Giving 
back his chocolate cup into the hands of the demure 
damsel, he called for his basket-hilted sword, girded it 
to his side, twirled up his mustachios, took his seat .in a 
large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and forbidding 
aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence. The 
soldier was brought in, still closely pinioned by his cap- 
tors, and guarded by the corporal. He maintained, 
however, a resolute, self-confident air, and returned the 
sharp, scrutinizing look of the governor with an easy 
squint, which by no means pleased the punctilious old 
potentatCc 

^'Well, culprit!^^ said the governor, after he had re- 
garded him for a moment in silence, ''what have you to 
say for yourself? who are you?'' 

''A soldier, just from the wars, who*has brought away 
nothing but scars and bruises." 

''A soldier? humph! a foot-soldier by "your garb. I 
understand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume 
you brought him too from the wars, beside your scars 
and bruises/' 

''May it please your excellency, I have something 
strange to tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of 
the most wonderful things to relate — something too that 
concerns the security of this fortress, indeed, of all Gra- 
nada. But it is a matter to be imparted only to your 
private ear, or in presence of such only as are in your 
confidence." 

The governor considered for a moment, and then 
directed the corporal and his men to withdraw, but to 
post themselves outside of the door, and be ready at call. 
"This holy friar," said he, "is my confessor, you may 
say anything in his presence — and this damsel," nodding 
toward the handmaid, who had loitered with an air of 
great curiosity, "this damsel is of great secrecy and dis« 
cretion, and to be trusted with anything." 

The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer 
^t the demure handmaid. "I am perfectly willing," 
said he, "that the damsel should remain." Mj 

When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier com." 
menced his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued 
varlet, and had a command of language above his apparent 



QOVERNOR MANOO AND TEE SOLDIER, 187 

**May it please your excellency/* said iie, ^^I am, as I 
before observed, a soldier, and hare seen some hard serv* 
ice, but my term of enlistment being expired, I was 
discharged not long since from the army at Valladolid, 
and set out on foot for my native village in Andalusia. 
Yesterday evening the sun went down as I was travers- 
ing a great dry plain of old Castile/' 

'^Hold!'^ cried the governor, *^what is this you say? 
Old Castile is some two or three hundred miles from 
this.'^ 

''Even so,'' replied the soldier coolly, "I told your 
excellency I had strange things to relate — but not more 
strange than true — as your excellency will find, if you 
will deign me a patient hearing/' 

''Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his 
mustachios. 

"As the sun went down," continued the soldier, "I 
cast my eyes about in search of some quarters for the 
night, but far as my sight could reach there were no 
Bigns of habitation. I saw that I should have to make 
my bed on the naked plain, with my knapsack for a pil- 
low; but your excellency is an old soldier, and knows 
that to one who has been in the wars, such a night's 
lodging is no great hardship/' 

The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket- 
handkerchief out of the basket-hilt of his sword, to drive 
away a fly that buzzed about his nose. 

"Well, to make a long story short," continued the 
soldier, "I trudged forward for several miles, until I 
came to a bridge over a deep ravine, through which ran 
a little thread of water almost dried up by the summer 
heat. At one end of the bridge was a Moorish tower^ 
the upper part all ^n ruins, but a vault in the founda- 
tions quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a good place to 
make a halt. So i went down to the stream, took a 
hearty drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I 
Vas parched with thirst, then opening my wallet, I took 
out an onion and a few crusts, which were all my provi- 
sions, and seating myself on a stone on the margin of the 
itream> began to make my supper; intending afterward 
to quarter myself for the night in the vault of the tower, 
und capital quarters they would have been for a cam- 
paigner just from the wars, as your e^^f^Ueucy, who is au 
•Id soldier^ m^suDPogii*'' 



188 THE ALHAMBRA. 

'•'I have put up gladly with worse in my time/* said 
the governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the 
hilt of his sword. 

*'While I was quietly crunching my crust/^ pursued 
the soldier, ''I heard something stir within the vault; I 
listened: it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man 
came forth from the door in the foundation of the tower, 
close by the water's edge, leading a powerful horse by 
the bridle. I could not well make out what he was by 
the starlight. It had a suspicious look to be lurking 
among the ruins of a tower in that wild solitary place. 
He might be a mere wayfarer like myself; he might be a 
contrabandista; he might be a bandalero! What of that 
— thank Heaven and my poverty, I had nothing to lose, 
so I sat still and crunched my crusts. 

*'He led his horse to the water close by where I was 
sitting, so that I had a fair opportunity of reconnoitering 
him. To my surprise, he was dressed in a Moorish garb, 
with a cuirass of steel, and a polished skull cap, that I 
distinguished by the reflection of the stars upon it. His 
horse, too, was harnessed in the Morisco fashion, with 
great shovel stirrups. He led him, as I said, to the side 
of the stream, into which the animal plunged his head 
almost to the eyes, and drank until I thought he would 
have burst. 

" 'Comrade,' said I, ^your steed drinks well; it's a 
good sign when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into 
the water.' 

^* 'He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking 
with a Moorish accent; 'it is a good year since he had his 
last draught.' 

" 'By Santiago,' said I^ 'that beats even the camels that 
1 have seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be something 
of a soldier, won't you sit down and take part of a soldier's 
fare?' In fact I felt the want of a companion in this 
lonely place, and was willing to put up with an infidel. 
Besides, as your excellency well knows, a soldier is never 
very particular about the faith of his company, and 
soldiers of all countries are comrades on peaceable 
ground." 

The governor again nodded assent. 

"Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my sup* 
per, such as it was, for I could not do less in common 
hospitality. 



OOVEBNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIEK 189 

^' 'I have DO time to pause for meat or drink,' said he; 
'I have a long journey to make before morning.' 

" 'In which direction?' said I. 

" 'Andalusia/ said he. 

^' 'Exactly my route/ said I. 'So as you won't stop 
and eat with me perhaps you'll let me mount and ride 
with you. I see your horse is of a powerful frame: I'll 
warrant he'll carry double.' 

" 'Agreed/ said the trooper; and it would not have, 
been civil and soldierlike to refuse, especially as I had 
offered to share my supper with him. So up he mounted, 
and up I mounted behind him. 

" 'Hold fast,' said he, 'my steed goes like the wind/ 

" 'Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set. 

"From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a 
trot to a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarum 
scamper. It seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, every- 
thing flew hurry-scurry behind us. 

'"What town is this?' said I. 

" 'Segovia,' said he; and before the words were out of 
his mouth the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We 
swept up the Guadarama Mountains and down by the 
Escurial; and we skirted the walls of Madrid and we 
scoured away across the plains of La Mancha. In this 
way we went up hill and down dale, by towns and cities 
all buried in deep sleep, and across mountains and plains 
and rivers, just glimmering in the starlight. 

"To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your 
excellency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side 
of a mountain. 'Here we are,' said he, 'at the end of 
our journey.' 

"1 looked about, but could see no signs of habitation — • 
nothing but the mouth of a cavern; while I looked, I 
saw multitudes of people in Moorish dresses, some on 
horseback, some on foot, arriving as if borne by the wind 
from all points of the compass, and hurrying into the- 
mouth of the cavern like bees into a hive. Before I 
could ask a question the trooper struck his long Moorish 
spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with the 
throng. We passed along a steep winding way that de- 
scended into the very bowels of the mountain. As we 
pushed on alight began to glimmer up by little and little, 
like the first glimmerings of day, but what caused it I 



190 TEE ALEAMBEA. 

could not discover. It grew stronger and stronger, an4 
enabled me to see everything around. I now noticed, aa 
we passed along, great caverns opening to the right and 
left, like halls in an arsenal. In some there were shields, 
and helmets, and cuirasses, and lances, and scimitars 
hanging against the walls; in others there were great 
heaps of warlike munitions and camp equipage lying 
upon the ground. 

^'It would have done your excellency's heart good, 
being an old soldier, to have seen such grand provision 
for war. Then in other caverns there were long rows of 
horsemen, arm^d to the teeth, with lances raised and 
banners unfurled, all ready for the field; but they all sat 
motionless in their saddles like so many statues. In 
other halls were warriors sleeping on the ground beside 
their horses, and foot soldiers in groups, ready to fall 
into the ranks. All were in old-fashioned Moorish 
dresses and armor. 

''Well, your excellency, to cut a long story short, we 
at length entered an immense cavern, or I might say 
palace, of grotto work, the walls of which seemed to b« 
veined with gold and silver, and to sparkle with dia* 
monds and sapphires, and all kinds of precious stones. 
At the upper end sat a Moorish king on a golden throne, 
with his nobles on each side, and a guard of African 
blacks with drawn scimitars. All the crowd that con- 
tinued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and thou- 
sands, passed one by one before his throne, each paying 
homage as he jjassed. Some of the multitude were 
dressed in magnificent robes, without stain or blemish, 
and sparkling with jewels; others in burnished and 
enameled armor; while others were in moldered and 
mildewed garments and in armor all battered and dinted, 
and covered with rust. 

"I had hitherto held my tongue, for your excellency 
well knows it is not for a soldier to ask many questions 
when on duty, but I could keep silence no longer. 

"'Prithee, comrade,' said I, 'what is the meaning of 
all this?' 

" 'This,^ said the trooper, Ms a great and powerful 
mystery. Know, Christian, that you see before you 
the court and army of Boabdil, the last king of Granada/ 

'•'Wh^t k tbi^ you tell mel' cried h 'Pg^Mil md 



GOVERNOR MAWOO AND TBB SOLDIER, 191 

his court were exiled from the land hundreds of years 
agone^ and all died in Africa,. ' 

*^ 'So it is recorded in your lying chronicles/ replied 
the Moor; *but know that Boabdil and the warriors who 
made the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in 
this mountain by powerful enchantment. As to the 
king and army that marched forth from Granada at the 
time of the surrender, they were a mere phantom train^ 
or spirits and demons permitted to assume those shapes 
to deceive the Christian sovereigns. And furthermore 
let me tell you, friend, that all Spain is a country under 
the power of enchantment. There is not a mountain- 
cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor ruined 
castle on the hills, but has 3ome spell-bound warriors 
sleeping from age to age within its vaults, until the sins 
are expiated for which Allah permitted the dominion to 
pass for a time out of the hands of the faithful. Once 
every year, on the eve of St. John, they are released 
from enchantment from sunset to sunrise, and permitted 
to repair here to pay homage to their sovereign; and the 
crowds which you beheld swarming into the cavern are 
Moslem warriors from their haunts in all parts of Spain; 
for my own part, you saw the ruined tower of the bridge 
in old Castile, where I have now wintered and summered 
for many hundred years, and where I must be back again 
by daybreak. As to the battalions of horse and foot 
which you beheld drawn up in array in the neighboring 
caverns, they are the spell-bound warriors of Granada. 
It is written in the book of fate that when the enchant- 
ment is broken Boabdil will descend from the mountains 
at the head of this army, resume his throne in the Al- 
hambra and his sway of Granada, and gathering together 
the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain, will re- 
conquer the peninsula, and restore it to Moslem rule,* 

^' 'And when shall this happen?^ said I. 

** ^Allah alone knows. We had hoped the day of de- 
liverance was at hand; but there reigns at present a 
vigilant governor in Alhambra, a stanch old soldier, the 
same called Governor Manco; while such a warrior holds 
command of the very outpost and stands ready to check 
the first irruption from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and 
his soldiery must be content to rest upon their arms.' " 

Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendic- 
ularly^ adjusted his swQ^dAii^jidiwirled up his mustachioa. 



192 7HE ALEAMBRA, 

**To make a long story short, and not to fatigue yarn 
excellency, the trooper, having given me this account, 
dismounted from his steed. 

" ^Tarry here,' said he, 'and guard my steed, while I 
go and bow the knee to Boabdil/ So saying he strode 
away among the throng that pressed forward to the 
throne. 

'^What's to be done? thought I, when thus left to 
myself. Shall I w^ait here until this infidel returns to 
whisk me off on his goblin steed, the Lord knows where? 
or shall I make the most of my time^ and beat a retreat 
from this hobgoblin community? A soldier's mind is 
soon made up, as your excellency well knows. As to 
the horse, he belonged to an avowed enemy of the faith 
and the realm, and was a fair prize according to the 
rules of w^ar. So hoisting myself from the crupper into 
the saddle, I turned the reins, struck the Moorish stir- 
rups into the sides of the steed, and put him to make 
the best of his way out of the passage by which we had 
entered. As w^e scoured by the halls where the Moslem 
horsemen sat in motionless battalions, I thought I heard 
the clang of armor, and a hollow murmur of voices. I 
gave the steed another taste of the stirrups, and doubled 
my speed. There w^as now a sound behind me like a 
rushing blast; I heard the clatter of a thousand hoofs; a 
countless throng overtook me; I was borne along in the 
press, and hurled forth from the mouth of the cavern, 
while thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in 
every direction by the four winds of heaven. 

''In the w^hirl and confusion of the scene I was thrown 
from the saddle, and fell senseless to the earth. When 
I came to myself I w^as lying on the brow of a hill, with 
the Arabian steed standing beside me, for in falling my 
irm had slipped within the bridle, which, I presume, 
prevented his whisking off to old Castile. 

''Your excellency may easily judge of my surprise on 
looking round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs, 
and other proofs of a southern climate, and see a great 
city below me with towers and palaces, and a grand 
cathedral. I descended the hill cautiously, leading my 
steed, for I was afraid to mount him again lest he should 
play me some slippery trick. As I descended I met with, 
your patrol, who let me into the secret that it was Gra-' 



] I f f I 

GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 193 

nada that lay before me: and that I was actually under 
the walls of the Alhambra, the fortress of the redoubted 
Governor Manco, the terror of all enchanted Moslems. 
When I heard this I determined at once to seek your 
excellency, to inform you of all that I had seen, and to 
warn you of the perils that surround and undermine you, 
that you may take measures in time to guard your for- 
tess, and the kingdom itself, from this intestine army 
that lurks in the very bowels of the land." 

"And prithee, friend, you who are a veteran cam- 
paigner, and have seen so much service,'^ said the gov- 
ernor, "how would you advise me to go about to prevent 
this evil?" 

"It is not for an humble private of the ranks," said 
the soldier modestly, "to pretend to instruct a com- 
mander of your excellency's sagacity; but it appears to 
me that your excellency might cause all the caves and 
entrances into the mountain to be walled up with solid 
mason-work, so that Boabdiland his army might be com- 
pletely corked up in their subterranean habitation. If 
the good father too, "added the soldier, reverently bowing 
to the friar, and devoutly crossing himself, "would con- 
secrate the barricadoes with his blessing, and put up a 
few crosses and reliques, and images of saints, I think 
they might withstand all the power of infidel enchant- 
ments." 

"They doubtless would be of great avail," said the 
friar. 

The governor now placed his arm akimbo, with his 
hand resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon 
the soldier, and gently wagging his head from one side 
to the other: 

"So, friend," said he, "then you really suppose I am 
to be gulled with this cock-and-bull story about enchanted 
mountains and enchanted Moors. Hark ye, culprit! — ■ 
not another word — an old soldier you may be, but you'll 
find you have an old soldier to deal with; and one not 
easily ouc generaled. Ho! guard there! — put this fellow 
in irons." 

The demure handmaid would have put in a word in 
favor of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with 
a look. 

As they were pinioning the soldier one of the guards 



1 94 THE ALHAMBRA. 

felt something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it 
forth found a long leathern purse that appeared to be 
well filled. Holding it by one corner, he turned out the 
contents on the table before the governor, and never did 
freebooter's bag make more gorgeous delivery. Out 
tumbled rings, and jewels, and rosaries of pearls, and 
sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of ancient 
golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the floor, and 
rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber. 

For a time the functions of justice were suspended: 
there was a universal scramble after the glittering fugi- 
tives. The governor alone, who was imbued with true 
Spanish pride, maintained his stately decorum, though 
his eye betrayed a little anxiety until the last coin and 
jewel was restored to the sack. 

The friar was not so calm; his whole face glowed like 
a furnace, and his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of 
the rosaries and crosses. 

''Sacrilegious wretch that thou art,'' exclaimed he, 
''what church or sanctuary hast thou been plundering of 
these sacred reliques?" 

"Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be 
sacrilegious spoils, they must have been taken in times 
long past by the infidel trooper I have mentioned. I 
was just going to tell his excellency, when he interrupted 
me, that on taking possession of the trooper's horse, I 
unhooked a leathern sack which hung at the saddle bow, 
and which, I presume, contained the plunder of his 
campaignings in days of old, when the Moors overran the 
country." 

"Mighty well — at present you will make up your mind 
to take up your quarters in a chamber of the Vermilion 
Towers, which, though not under a magic spell, will hold 
you as safe as any cave of your enchanted Moors." 

"Your excellency will do as you think proper,'' said 
the prisoner coolly. "I shall be thankful to your excel- 
lency for any accommodation in the fortress. A soldier 
who has been in the wars, as your excellency well knows, 
is not particular about his lodgings; and provided I have 
a snug dungeon and regular rations, I shall manage to 
make myself comfortable. I would only entreat that 
while your excellency is so careful about me, you would 
bavo an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint I 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER, 195 

dropped about stopping up the entrances to the moun- 
tain.'* 

Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted 
to a strong dungeon in the Vermilion Towers^ the Arabian 
steed was led to his excellency's stable, and the trooper's 
sack was deposited in his excellency's strong box. To 
the latter, it is true, the friar made some demur, ques- 
tioning whether the sacred reliques, which were evidently 
sacrilegious spoils, should not be placed in custody of 
the church; but as the governor was peremptory on the 
subject, and was absolute lord in the Alhambra, the 
friar discreetly dropped the discussion, but determined 
to convey intelligence of the fact to the church digni- 
taries in Granada. 

To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the 
part of old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe that 
about this time the Alpuxarra Mountains in the neigh- 
borhood of Granada were terribly infected by a gang of 
robbers, under the command of a daring chief named 
Manuel Borasco, who were accustomed to prowl about 
the country, and even to enter the city in various dis- 
guises to gain intelligence of the departure of convoys of 
merchandise, or travelers with well-lined purses, whom 
they took care to waylay in distant and solitary passes of 
their road. These repeated and daring outrages had 
awakened the attention of government, and the com- 
manders of the various posts had received instructions 
to be on the alert, and to take up all suspicious strag- 
glers. Governor Manco was particularly zealous, in con- 
sequence of the various stigmas that had been cast upon 
his fortress, and he now doubted not that he had en- 
trapped some formidable desperado of this gang. 

In the meantime the story took wind, and became the 
talk not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of 
Granada. It was said that the noted robber, Manuel 
Borasco, the terror of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into 
the clutches of old Governor Manco, and had been 
cooped up by him in a dungeon of the Vermilion Towers, 
and every one who had been robbed by him flocked to 
recognize the marauder. The Vermilion Towers, as is 
well known, stand apaTt from the Alhambra, on a sister 
hill separated from the main fortress by the ravine, down 
which passes the maii; k^\^'\xQ. There werg ^lo owter 



196 THE ALHAMBEA. 



1 



walls, but a sentinel patrolled before the tower. The 
window of the chamber in which the soldier was confined 
was strongly grated, and looked upon a small esplanade. 
Here the good folks of Granada repaired to gaze at him, 
as they would at a laughing hyena grinning through the 
cage of a menagerie. Nobody, however, recognized him 
for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible robber was noted 
for a ferocious physiognomy, and had by no means the 
good-humored squint of the prisoner. Visitors came not 
merely from the city, but from all parts '^f the country, 
but nobody knew him, and there began to be doubts in 
the minds of the common people whether there might 
not be some truth in his story. That Boabdil and his 
army were shut up in the mountain, was an old tradition 
which many of the ancient inhabitants had heard from 
their fathers. Numbers went up to the Mountain of the 
Sun, or rather of St. Elena, in search of the cave men- 
tioned by the soldier; and saw and peeped into the deep 
dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, into the 
mountain, and which remains there to this day, the 
fabled entrance to the subterranean abode of Boabdil. 

By degrees the soldier became popular with the com- 
mon people. A freebooter of the mountains is by no 
means the opprobrious character in Spain that a robber is 
in any other country; on the contrary, he is a kind of 
chivalrous personage in the eyes of the lower classes. 
There is always a disposition, also, to cavil at the conduct 
of those in command, and many began to murmur at the 
high-handed measures of old Governor Manco, and to 
look upon the prisoner in the light of a martyr. 

The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, 
that had a joke for every one who came near his window, 
and a soft speech for every female. He had procured 
an old guitar also, and would sit by his window and sing 
ballads and love ditties to the delight of the women of 
the neighborhood, who would assemble on the esplanade 
in the evenings and dance boleros to his music. Having 
trimmed off his rough beard, his sunburnt face found 
favor in the eyes of the fair, and the demure handmaid 
of the governor declared that his squint was perfectly 
irresistible. This kind-hearted damsel had from the 
first evinced a deep sympathy in his fortunes, and having 
in vain tried to mollify the governor, had set to work 



GOVERNOR MANCO AND THE SOLDIER, 197 

privMely to mitigate the rigor of his dispensations. 
Every day she brought the prisoner some crumbs of com- 
fort which had fallen from the governor's table or been 
abstracted from his larder^ together with, now and then, 
a consoling bottle of choice Val de Pefias or rich Malaga. 

While this petty treason was going on in the very 
center of the old governor's citadel, a storm of open war 
was brewing up among his external foes. The circum- 
stance of a bag of gold and jewels having been found 
upon the person of the supposed robber had been re- 
ported with many exaggerations in Granada. A ques- 
tion of territorial jurisdiction was immediately started 
by the governor's inveterate rital, the captain-general. 
He insisted that the prisoner had been captured with- 
out the precincts of the Alhambra, and within the rules 
of his authority. He demanded his body, therefore, and 
the spolia opima taken with him. Due information hav- 
ing been carried likewise by the friar to the grand in- 
quisitor, of the crosses, and the rosaries, and other 
reliques contained in the bag, he claimed the culprit, as 
having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that his 
plunder was due to the church, and his body to the next 
Auto da Fe. The feuds ran high; the governor was furi- 
ous, and swore, rather than surrender his captive, he 
would hang him up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught 
within the purlieus of the fortress. 

The captain-general threatened to send a body of sol- 
diers to transfer the prisoner from the Vermilion Towers 
to the city. The grand inquisitor was equally bent upon 
dispatching a number of the familiars of the holy oflBce. 
Word was brought late at night to the governor of these 
machinations. ''Let them come," said he, "they'll find 
me beforehand with them. He must rise bright and 
early who would take in an old soldier." He accordingly 
issued orders to have the prisoner removed at daybreak 
to the Donjon Keep within the walls of the Alhambra: 
''And d'ye hear, child," said he to his demure hand- 
maid, "tap at my door, and wake me before cock-crow- 
ing, that I may see to the matter myself." 

The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped 
at the door of the governor. The sun rose high above 
the mountain tops, and glittered in at his casement ere 
the governor was awakened from his morning dreams by 



10g THE ALEAMBRA. 

his veteran corporal, who stood before him, with terror 
staiDped upon his iron visage. 

*^He'8 off! he's gone!^^ cried the corporal, gasping for 
breath. 

''Who's ofE?— who's gone?" 

''The soldier — the robber — the devil, for aught I know. 
His dungeon is empty, but the door locked. No one 
knows how he has escaped out of it.'' 

"Who saw him last?" 

"Your handmaid — she brought him his supper." 

"Let her be called instantly." 

Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of 
the demure damsel was likewise empty; her bed had not 
been slept in; she had doubtless gone off with the cul- 
prit, as she had appeared, for some days past, to have 
frequent conversations with him. 

This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, 
but he had scarce time to wince at it when new misfor- 
tunes broke upon his view. On going into his cabinet, 
he found his strong box open, the leathern purse of the 
trooper extracted, and with it a couple of corpulent bags 
of doubloons. 

But how and which way had the fugitives escaped? 
A peasant who lived in a cottage by the roadside leading 
up into the Sierra declared that he had heard the tramp 
of a powerful steed, just before daybreak, passing up 
into the mountains. He had looked out at his casement, 
and could just distinguish a horseman, with a female 
seated before him. 

"Search the stables," cried Governor Manco. The 
stables were searched; all the horses were in their stalls, 
excepting the -Arabian steed. In his place was a stout 
cudgel tied to the manger, and on it a label bearing 
these words, "A gift to Governor Manco, from an old' 
soldier." 



LEGEND OP THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. _ 

There lived once, in a waste apartment of the Alham- ■ 
bra, a merry little fellow named Lope Sanchez, who 
worked in the gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a 
grasshopper, singing all day long. He was the life and 



LEQENB OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES, 199 

soul of the fortress; when his work was over he would 
sit on one of the stone benches of the esplanade and 
strum his guitar, and sing long ditties about the Cid, 
and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar, and 
other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old 
soldiers of the fortress, or would strike up a merrier 
tune, and set the girls dancing boleros and fandangoes. 

Like most little men. Lope Sanchez, had a strapping 
buxom dame for a wife, who could almost have put him 
in her pocket; but he lacked the usual poor man's lot — 
instead of ten children he had but one. This was a little 
black-eyed girl, about twelve years of age, named 
Sanchica, who was as merry as himself, and the delight 
of his heart. She played about him as he worked in the 
gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in the shade, and 
ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves, and alleys, 
and ruined halls of the Alhambra. 

It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the 
holiday-loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and 
children, went up at night to the Mountain of the Sun, 
which rises above the Generaliffe, to keep their midsum- 
mer vigil on its level summit. It was a bright moon- 
light night, and all the mountains were gray and silvery, 
and the city, with its domes and spires, lay in shadows 
below, and the Vega was like a fairyland, with haunted 
streams gleaming among its dusky groves. On the high- 
est part of the mountain they lit up a balefire, according 
to an old custom of the country handed down from the 
Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding country 
were keeping a similar vigil, and balefires here and 
there in the Vega, and along the folds of the mountains, 
blazed up palely in the moonlight. 

The evening was gayly passed in dancing to the guitar 
of Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a 
holiday revel of the kind. While the dance was going 
on the little Sanchica with some of her playmates 
sported among the ruins of an old Moorish fort that 
crowns the mountain, when, in gathering pebbles in the 
fosse, she found a small hand, curiously carved of jet, 
the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly clasped upon 
them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she ran to her 
mother with her prize. It immediately became a subject 
of sage speculation, ^n4 was eyed by some with supersti* 



200 THE ALHAMBRA, 



1 



tious distrust. **Throw it away/' said one, "it is Moor- 
ish — depend upon it there's mischief and witchcraft 
in it." "By no means/' said another, "you may sell it 
for something to the jewelers of the Zacatin.'^ In the 
midst of this discussion an old tawny soldier drew near, 
Avho had served in Africa, and was as swarthy as a Moor. 
He examined the hand with a knowing look. "I have 
seen things of this kind," said he, "among the Moors of 
Barbary. It is of great value to guard against the evil 
eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantments. I give 
you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to your child." 

Upon hearing this the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the 
little hand of jet to a ribbon, and hung it round the neck 
of her daughter. 

The sight of this talisman called up all the favorite 
superstitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, 
and they sat in groups on the ground, telling old legend- 
ary tales handed down from their ancestors. Some of 
their stories turned upon the wonders of the very moun- 
tain upon which they were seated, which is a famous 
hobgoblin region. 

One ancient crone gave a long account of the subter- 
ranean palace in the bowels of that mountain, where 
Boabdil and all his Moslem court are said to remain en- 
chanted. "Among yonder ruins," said she, pointing to 
some crumbling walls and mounds of earth on a distant 
part of the mountain, "there is a deep black pit that 
goes down, down into the very heart of the mountain. 
For all the money in Granada, I would not look down 
into it. Once upon a time, a poor man of the Alhambra, 
who tended goats upon this mountain, scrambled down 
into that pit after a kid that had fallen in. He came 
out again, all wild and staring, and told such things of 
what he had seen that every one thought his braiii was 
turned. He raved for a day or two about hobgoblin 
Moors that had pursued him in the cavern, and could 
hardly be persuaded to drive his goats up again to the 
mountain. He did so at last, but, poor man, he never 
came down again. The neighbors found his goats brows- 
ing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat and mantle 
lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never more 
heard of." 

The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention 



LEO END OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 201 

to this story. She was of a curious nature, and felt im- 
mediately a great hankering to peep into this dangerous 
pit. Stealing away from her companions, she sought the 
distant ruins, and after groping for some time among 
them, came to a small hollow or basin, near the brow of 
the mountain, where it swept steeply down into the val- 
ley of the Darro. In the center of this basin yawned the 
mouth of the pit. Sanchica ventured to the verge and 
peeped in. All was black as pitch, and gave an idea 
of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold — she 
drew back^ — then peeped again — then would have run 
away — then took another peep — the very horror of the 
thing was delightful to her. At length she rolled a large 
stone, and pushed it over the brink. For some time it 
fell in silence; then struck some rocky projection with a 
violent crash, then rebounded from side to side, rumbling 
and tumbling, with a noise like thunder, then made a 
tinal splash into water, far, far below, and all was again 
silent. 

The silence, however, did not long continue. It 
seemed as if something had been awakened within this 
dreary abyss. A murmuring sound gradually rose out of 
the pit like the hum and buzz of a beehive. It grew 
louder and louder; there was the confusion of voices as 
of a distant multitude, together with the faint din of 
arms, clash of cymbals, and clangor of trumpets, as if 
some army were marshaling for battle in the very bowels 
of the mountain. 

The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened 
back to the place where she had left her parents and 
their companions. All were gone. The balefire was 
expiring, and its last wreath of smoke curling up in the 
moonshine. The distant fires that had blazed along the 
mountains and in the Vega were all extinguished; every- 
thing seemed to have sunk to repose. Sanchica called 
her parents and some of her companions by name, but 
received no reply. She ran down the side of the moun- 
tain, and by the gardens of the Generaliffe, until she 
arrived in the alley of trees leading to the Alhambra, 
where she seated herself on a bench of a woody recess to 
recover breath. The bell from the watch-tower of the 
Alhambra told midnight. There was a deep tranquillity, 
as if all nature slept; excepting the low tinkling sound 



iOii THE ALBAMBMA. 

of an unseen streann that ran under the covert of the 
bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere was 
lulling her to sleep, when her eye was caught by some- 
thing glittering at a distance, and to her surprise, she 
beheld a long cavalcade of 'Moorish warriors pouring 
down the mountain side, and along the leafy avenues. 
Some were armed with lances and shields; others with 
scimitars and battle-axes, and with polished cuirasses 
that flashed in the moonbeams. Their horses pranced 
proudly, and champed upon the bit, but their tramp 
caused no more sound than if they had been shod with 
felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among 
them rode a beautiful lady with a crowned head and long 
golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings of her 
palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, 
and swept the earth; but she rode all disconsolate, with 
eyes ever fixed upon the ground. 

Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently 
arrayed in robes and turbans of divers colors, and amid 
these, on a cream-colored charger, rode King Boabdil el 
Ohico, in a royal mantle covered with jewels, and a 
crown sparkling with diamonds. The little Sanchica 
knew him by his yellow beard, and his resemblance to his 
portrait, which she had often seen in the picture gallery 
of the GeneralifEe. She gazed in wonder and admiration 
at this royal pageant as it passed glistening among the 
trees, but though she knew these monarchs, and cour- 
tiers, and warriors, so pale and silent, were out of the 
common course of nature, and things of magic or en- 
chantment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, such 
courage did she derive from the mystic talisman of the 
hand which was suspended about her neck. 

' The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. 
It continued on to the great gate of Justice, which stood 
wide open; the old invalid sentinels on duty lay on the 
stone benches of the barbican, buried in profound and 
apparently charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant 
swept noiselessly by them with flaunting banner and 
triumphant state. Sanchica would have followed, but, 
to her surprise, she beheld an opening in the earth 
within the barbican, leading down beneath the founda- 
tions of the tower. She entered for a little distance, and 
was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn 



LBQlSlND OP THE TWO DISCREET STATUES 303 

IB the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up 
by a silver lamp, which, while it gave light, diffusecl 
likewise a grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she came 
at last to a great hall wrought out of the heart of the 
mountain, magnificently furnished in the Moorish style, 
and lighted up by silver and crystal lamps. Here on an 
ottoman sat an old man in Moorish dress, with a long 
white beard, nodding and dozing, with a staff in his 
hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from his grasp; 
while at a little distance sat a beautiful lady in ancient 
Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with dia- 
monds, and her hair entwined with pearls, who was softly 
playing on a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recol- 
lected a story she had heard among the old people of the 
Alhambra, concerning a Gothic princess confined in the 
center of the mountain by an old Arabian magician, 
whom she kept bound up in magic sleep by the power of 
music. 

The lady paused with surprise at seeing a mortal in 
that enchanted hall. ^'Is it the eve of the blessed St* 
John?'^ said she. 

*^It is,'^ replied Sanchica. 

'^Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. 
Come hither, child, and fear not, I am a Christian like 
thyself, though bound here by enchantment. Touch my 
fetters with the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and 
for this night I shall be free.^' 

So saying she opened her robes and displayed a broad 
golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that 
fastened her to the ground. The child hesitated not to 
apply the little hand of jet to the golden band, and im- 
mediately the chain fell to the earth. At the sound the 
old man awoke and began to rub his eyes, but the lady 
ran her fingers over the chords of the lyre, and again he 
fell into a slumber and began to nod, and his staff to 
falter in his hand. ^^Now,'' said the lady, ^Houch hi3 
staff with the talismanic hand of jet.'^ The child did 
so, and it fell from his grasp, and he sank in a deep 
sleep on the ottoman. The lady gently laid the silver 
lyre on the ottoman, leaning it against the head of the 
sleeping magician, then touching the chords until they 
vibrated in his ear, *^0 potent spirit of harmony,'^ said 
she, ^'continue thus to bold his senses in thraldom till 



204 THE ALHAMBRA, 

the return of day/' *^Now follow me, my child/^ con- 
tinued she, ^^and thou shalt behold the Alhambra as it 
was in the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talis- 
man that reveals all enchantments.'^ Sanchica followed 
the lady in silence. They passed up through the en- 
trance of the cavern into the barbican of the gate of 
Justice, and thence to the Plaza de las Algibes, or es- 
planade within the fortress. This was all filled with Moor- 
ish soldiery, horse and foot, marshaled in squadrons, with 
banners displayed. There were royal guards also at the 
portal, and rows of African blacks with drawn scimitars. 
No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed on fearlessly 
after her conductor. Her astonishment increased on en- 
tering the royal palace, in which she had been reared. 
The broad moonshine lit up all the halls, and courts, 
and gardens, almost as brightly as if it were day; but 
revealed a far different scene from that to which she 
was accustomed. The walls of the apartments were no 
longer stained and rent by time. Instead of cobwebs, 
they were now hung with rich silks of Damascus, and 
the gildings and arabesque paintings were restored to 
their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls, in- 
stead of being naked and unfurnished, were set out with 
divans and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered 
with pearls and studded with precious gems, and all the 
fountains in the courts and gardens were playing. 

The kitchens were again in full operation; cooks were 
busied preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boil- 
ing the pliantoms of pullets and partridges; servants 
were hurrying to and fro with silver dishes heaped up 
with dainties, and arranging a delicious banquet. The 
Court of Lions was thronged with guards, and courtiers, 
and alfaquis, as in the old times of the Moors; and at 
the upper end, in the saloon of judgment, sat Boabdil on 
his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a 
shadowy scepter for the night. 

Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, 
not a voice or footstep was to be heard; nothing inter- 
rupted the midnight silence but the plashing of the 
fountains. The little Sanchica followed her conductress 
in mute amazement about the palace, until they came to 
a portal opening to the vaulted passages beneath the 
great tower of Comares. On each side of the portal sat 



LEGEND OF TEE TWO DISCREET STATUES 205 

fche figure of a nymph, wrought out of alabaster. Their 
heads were turned aside, and their regards fixed upon 
the same spot wittiin the vault. The enchanted lady 
paused, and beckoned the child to her. '^Here,^^ said 
she, *^is a great secret, which I will reveal to thee in 
reward for thy faith and courage. These discreet statues 
watch over a mighty treasure hidden in old times by a 
Moorish king. Tell thy father to search the spot on 
which their eyes are fixed, and he will find what will 
make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy inno- 
cent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with 
the talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father 
use it discreetly, and devote a part of it to the perform- 
ance of daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy 
enchantment.'^ 

When the lady had spoken these words she led the 
child onward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, which is 
hard by the vault of the statues. The moon trembled 
upon the waters of the solitary fountain in the center of 
the garden, and shed a tender light upon the orange and 
citron trees. The beautiful lady plucked a branch of 
myrtle and wreathed it round the head of the child. 
''Let this be a memento,'^ said she, ''of what I have re- 
vealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth. My hour 
is come — I must return to the enchanted hall; follow me 
not, lest evil befall thee; farewell, remember what I have 
said, and have masses performed for my deliverance.'' 
So saying, the lady entered a dark passage leading be- 
neath the towers of Comares, and was no longer to be seen. 

The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the 
cottages below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, 
and a pale streak ofl ight began to appear above the 
eastern mountains. A slight wind arose; there was a 
sound like the rustling of dry leaves through the courts 
and corridors, and door after door shut to with a jarring 
sound. Sanchica returned to the scenes she had so lately 
beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude, but Boab- 
dil and his phantom court were gone. 

The moon shone into empty halls and galleries stripped 
of their transient splendor, stained and dilapidated by 
time, and hung with cobwebs; the bat flitted about ia 
the uncertain light, and the frog croaked from the fish- 
^>ond. 



206 THE ALHAMBRA, 

Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote 
staircase that led up to the humble apartment occupied 
by her family. The door as usual was open, for Lope 
Sanchez was too poor to need bolt or bar: she crept 
quietly to her pallet, and, putting the myrtle wreath 
beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep. 

In the morning she related all that had befallen her to 
her father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole 
as a mere dream, and laughed at the child for her credul 
ity. He went forth to his customary labors in th€ 
garden, but had not been there long when his little 
daughter came running to him almost breathless. 
''Father! father!'^ cried she, ''behold the myrtle wreath 
which the Moorish lady bound round my head.'' 

Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk 
of the myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a 
sparkling emerald! Being not much accustomed to 
precious stones, he was ignorant of the real value of the 
wreath, but he saw enough to convince him that it was 
something more substantial than the stuff that dreams 
are generally made of, and that at any rate the 
child had dreamed to some purpose. His first care was 
to enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daugh- 
ter; in this respect, however, he was secure, for she 
had discretion far beyond her years or sex. He then 
repaired to the vault where stood the statues of the two 
alabaster nymphs. He remarked that their heads were 
turned from the portal, and that the regards of each 
were fixed upon the same point in the interior of the 
building. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most 
discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a 
line from the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, 
made a private mark on the wall, and then retired. 

All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was dis- 
tracted with a thousand cares. He could not help hov- 
ering within distant view of the two statues, and became 
nervous from the dread that the golden secret might be 
discovered Every footstep that approached the place 
made him tremble. He would have given anything 
could he but turn the heads of the statues, forgetting 
that they had looked precisely in the same direction for 
some hundreds of years, without any person being the 
wiser. "A plague upon them/' he would say to himself. 



IMQEND OF TEE TWO DISCBEET BTATUE8, ^01 

^^tbey'll betray all. Did ever mortal hear of such a 
mode of guarding a secret*^^ Then, on hearing any one 
advance he would steal oflf, as though his very lurking 
near the place would awaken suspicions. Then he would 
return cautiously, and peep from a distance to see if 
everything was secure, but the sight of the statues would 
again call forth his indignation. ^'Ay, there they 
stand, ^' would he say, ''always looking, and looking, and 
looking, just where they should not. Confound them! 
they are just like all their sex; if they have not tongues 
to tattle with, they'll be sure to do it with their eyes!'' 

At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to 
a close. The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in 
the echoing halls of the Alhambra; the last stranger 
passed the threshold, the great portal was barred and 
bolted, and the bat, and the frog, and the hooting owl 
gradually resumed their nightly vocations in the deserted 
palace. 

Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far 
advanced, before he ventured with his little daughter to 
the hall of the two nymphs. He found them looking as 
knowingly and mysteriously as ever at the secret place 
of deposit. ''By your leaves, gentle ladies,'' thought 
Lope Sanchez as he passed between them, "I will relieve 
you from this charge that must have set so heavy in your 
minds for the last two or three centuries." He accord- 
ingly went to work at the part of the wall which he had 
marked, and in a little while laid open a concealed re- 
cess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He 
attempted to draw them forth, but they were immovable 
until touched by the innocent hand of his little daughter. 
With her aid he dislodged them from their niche, and 
found to his great joy that they were filled with pieces of 
Moorish gold, mingled with jewels and precious stones. 
Before daylight he managed to convey them to his cham- 
ber, and left the two guardian statues with their eyes 
still fixed on the vacant wall. 

Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich 
man, but riches, as usual, brought a world of cares, to 
which he had hitherto been a stranger. How was he to 
r.onvey away his wealth with safety? How was he even 
to enter upon the enjoyment of it without awakening 
suspicion? Now, too, for the first time in his life, the 



oycj THE ALEAMBRA. 

dread of robbers entered into his mind. He looked with 
terror at the insecurity of his habitation, and went to 
work to barricade the doors and windows; yet after all 
his precautions, he could not sleep soundly. His usual 
gayety was at an end; he had no longer a joke or a song 
for his neighbors, and, in short, became the most misera- 
ble animal in the Alhambra. His old comrades remarked 
this alteration; pitied him heartily, and began to desert 
him, thinking he must be falling into want, and in dan- 
ger of looking to them for assistance; little did they sus- 
pect that his only calamity was riches. 

The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety; but then 
she had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have 
mentioned that Lope being rather a light, inconsiderate 
little man, his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, 
to seek the counsel and ministry of her confessor. Fray 
Simon, a sturdy, broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet- 
headed friar of the neighboring convent of San Francisco, 
who was, in fact, the spiritual comforter of half the good 
wives of the neighborhood. He was, moreover, in great 
esteem among divers sisterhoods of nuns, who requited 
him for his ghostly services by frequent presents of those 
little dainties and knicknacks manufactured in convents, 
such as delicate confections, sweet biscuits, and bottles 
of spiced cordials, found to be marvelous restoratives 
after fasts and vigils. 

Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. 
His oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up 
the hill of the Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwith- 
standing his sleek condition, the knotted rope round his 
waist showed the austerity of his self-discipline; the 
multitude doffed their caps to him as a mirror of piety, 
and even the dogs scented the odor of sanctity that ex- 
haled from his garments, and howled from their kennels 
as he passed. 

Such was Fray Simon, the spliitual counselor of the 
comely wife of Lope Sanchez, and as the father con- 
fessor is the domestic confidant of women in humble life 
in Spain, he was soon made acquainted, in great secrecy, 
with the story of the hidden treasure. 

The friar opened eyes and mouth, and crossed himself 
a dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, 
^'Daughter of my soulF' said he, ^ 'know that thy bus* 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 209 

band has committed a double sin, a sin against both state 
and church! The treasure he has thus seized upon for 
himself, being found in the royal domains, belongs of 
course to the crown; but being infidel wealth, rescued, 
as it were, from the very fangs of Satan, should be de- 
voted to the church Still, however, the matter may be 
accommodated. Bring hither the myrtle wreath.'^ 
' When the good father beheld it his eyes twinkled more 
than ever, with admiration of the size and beauty of tho 
emeralds* ^^This,'' said he, ^^beingthe first fruits of this 
discovery, should be dedicated to pious purposes. I will 
hang it up as a votive oflEering before tne image of San 
Francicso in our chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, 
this very night, that your husband be permitted to re- 
main in quiet possession of your wealth.^' 

The good dame was delighted to make her peace with 
Heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the 
wreath under his mantle, departed with saintly steps 
toward his convent. 

When Lope Sanchez came home his wife told him 
what had passed. He was excessively provoked, for he 
lacked his wife's devotion, and had for some time 
groaned in secret at the domestic visitations of the friar. 
^'Woman,'^ said he, ^Vhat hast thou done! Thou hast 
put everything at hazard by thy tattling. '^ 

^'What!'' cried the good woman, '^ould you forbid 
my disburdening my conscience to my confessor?^' 

^*No, wife! confess as many of your own sins as you 
please; but as to this money-digging, it is a sin of my 
own, and my conscience is very easy under the weight 
ofit.^' 

There was no use, however, in complaining; the secret 
was told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not 
again to be gathered. Their only chance was, that th« 
friar would be discreet. 

The next day, while Lope Sanchea was abroad, there 
was an humble knocking at /.he door, and Fray S mon 
entered with meek and demure countenance. 

*^Daughter,'' said he, **I have prayed earnestly to San 
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of 
the night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with 
a frowning aspect, 'Why,' said he. Most thou pray to 
me to dispense with this treasure of the Gentiles, wheu 



210 THE ALHAMBRA. 

thou seest the poverty of my chapel? Go to the house 
of Lope Sanchez, crave in my name a portion of the 
Moorish gold to furnish two candlesticks for the main 
altar, and let him possess the residue in peace/^ 

When the good woman heard of this vision she crossed 
herself with awe, and going to the secret place where 
. Lope had hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern 
purse with pieces of Moorish gold, and gave it to the 
friar. The pious monk bestowed upon her in return 
benedictions enough, if paid by Heaven, to enrich her 
race to the latest posterity; then slipping the purse into 
the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands upon his 
breast, and departed with an air of humble thankfulness. 

When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to 
the church he had well-nigh lost his senses. ^^Unfor- 
tunate man,^' cried he, '^what will become of me? I 
shall be robbed by piecemeal; I shall be ruined and 
brought to beggary!'^ 

It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could 
pacify him by reminding him of the countless wealth 
that yet remained; and how considerate it was for San 
Francisco to rest contented with so very small a portion. 

Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations 
to be provided for, not to mention some half-dozen 
sturdy, bullet-headed orphan children and destitute 
foundlings that he had taken under his care. He re- 
peated his visits, therefore, from day to day, with saluta- 
tions on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint Andrew, Saint 
James, until poor Lope was driven to despair, and found 
that, unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar, he 
should have to make peace offerings to every saint in the 
calendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his re- 
maining wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and 
make oflf to another part of the kingdom. 
) Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the 
: purpose, and tethered it in a gloomy vault underneath 
the tower of the Seven Floors — the very place from 
whence the Bellado, or goblin horse without a head, is 
said to issue forth at midnight and to scour the streets 
of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell-hounds. Lope 
Sanchez had little faith in the story, but availed himself 
of the dread occasioned by it, knowing that no one would 
be likely to pry into the subterranean stable of th^ 



LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 211 

phantom steed, fie sent off his family in the course of 
the day, with orders to wait for him at a distant village 
of the Vega. As the night advanced he conveyed his 
treasure to the vault under the tower, and having loaded 
his mule, he led it forth and cautiously descended the 
dusky avenue. 

Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost 
secrecy, imparting them to no one but the faithful wife 
of his bosom. By some miraculous revelation, however, 
they became known to Fray Simon; the zealous friar be- 
held these infidel treasures on the point of slipping for- 
ever out of his grasp and determined to have one more 
dash at them for the benefit of the church and San 
Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had rung for 
ftnimas and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out of 
his convent and, descending through the gate of Justice, 
concealed himself among the thickets of roses and laurels 
that border the great avenue. Here he remained count- 
ing the quarters of hours as they were sounded on the bell 
of the watch-tower, and listening to the dreary hootings 
of owls, and the distant barking of dogs from the gypsy 
caverns. 

At length he heard the tramp of hoofs, and through 
the gloom of the overshadowing trees imperfectly beheld 
a steed descending the avenue. The sturdy friar 
chuckled at the idea of the knowing turn he was about 
to serve honest Lope. Tucking up the skirts of his 
habit and wriggling like a cat watching a mouse, he 
waited until his prey was directly before him, when 
darting forth from his leafy covert, and plotting one hand 
on the shoulder and the other on tlhe crupper, he made 
a vault that would not have disgraced the most experi- 
enced master of equitation, and alighted well forked 
astride the steed. '^Aha!'^ said the sturdy frair, *'w0 
fthall now see who best understands the game.*' 

He had scarce uttered the words, when the mule began 
to kick and rear and plunge, and then set off at full 
speed down the hill. The friar attempted to check him 
but in vain. He bounded from rock to rock, and bush 
to bush; the friar's habit was torn to ribbons, and flut- 
terd in the wind; his shaven poll received many a hard 
knock from the branches of the trees, and many a scratch 
froni the brambles. To add to bi^ terorr and distresb. 



218 THE ALEAMBRA. 

he found a pack of seven hounds in full cry at his heels, 
and perceived, too late, that he was actually mounted 
upon the terrible Bellado! 

Away they went, according to the ancient phrase, 
**pull devil, pull friar,^^ down the great avenue, across 
the Plaza Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivar- 
ambla — never did huntsman and hound make a more 
furious run or more infernal uproar. 

In vain did the friar invoke every saint in the calendar, 
and the holy virgin into the bargain; every time he men- 
tioned a name of the kind it was like a fresh application 
of the spur, and made the Bellado bound as high as a 
house. Through the remainder of the night was the 
unlucky Fray Simon carried hither and thither and 
whither he would not, until every bone in his body 
ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous to be 
mentioned. At length the crowing of a cock gave the 
signal of returning day. At the sound the goblin steed 
wheeled about and galloped back for his tower. Again 
he scoured the Vivarambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza 
Nueva, and the avenue of fountains, the seven dogs 
yelling and barking, and leaping up, and snapping at the 
heels of the terrified friar. The first streak of day had 
just appeared as they reached the tower; here the goblin 
steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somersault 
through the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by 
the infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to 
the late deafening clamor. 

Was ever so diabolical a trick played oflE upon holy 
friar? A peasant going to his labors at earlv dawn found 
the unfortunate Fray Simon lying under a ng-tree at the 
foot of the tower, but so bruised and bedeviled that he 
could neither speak nor move. He was conveyed with 
all care and tenderness to his cell, and the story went 
that he had been waylaid and maltreated by robbers. A 
day or two elapsed before he recovered the use of his 
limbs: he consoled himself in the meantime with the 
thought that though the mule with the treasure had 
escaped him he had previously had some rare pickings at 
the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use his 
limbs was to search beneath his pallet, where he had 
secreted the myrtle wreath and the leathern pouches of 
gold, extracted from the piety of Dame Sanchez. What 



Legend of the two discreet statues. 21?. 

was his dismay at finding the wre-ath in efEect but a 
withered branch of myrtle^ and the leathern pouches 
filled with sand and gravel! 

Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to 
hold his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on 
him the ridicule of the public and the punishment of his 
superior; it was not until many years afterward on his 
deathbed that he revealed to his confessor his nocturnal 
ride on the Bellado. 

Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time 
after his disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory 
was always cherished as that of a merry companion, 
though it was feared from the care and melancholy shown 
in his conduct shortly before his mysterious departure 
that poverty and distress had driven him to some ex- 
tremity. Some years afterward one of his old compan- 
ions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga was knocked 
down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The car- 
riage stopped; an old gentleman magnificently dressed, 
with a bag-wig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor 
invalid. What was the astonishment of the latter to be- 
hold in this grand cavalier his old friend Lope Sanchez, 
who was actually celebrating the marriage of his daughter 
Sanchica with one of the first grandees in the land. 

The carriage contained the bridal party. There was 
Dame Sanchez, now grown as round as a barrel and dressed 
out with feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and 
necklaces of diamonds, and rings on every finger, and al- 
together a finery of apparel that had not been seen since 
the days of Queen Sheba. The little Sanchica had now 
grown to be a woman, and for grace and beauty might 
have been mistaken for a duchess, if not a princess out- 
right. The bridegroom sat beside her, rather a withered, 
spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved him tc 
be of the true blue blood, a legitimate Spanish grandee 
being rarely above three cubits in stature. The match 
had been of the mother's making. 

Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope. He 
kept his old comrade with him for several days, feasted 
him like a king, took him to plays and bull-fights, and at 
length sent him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money 
for himself and another to be distributed among his 
ancient messmates o£ the Alhambra. 



214 THE ALBAMBRA, 

Lo|)e always gave out that a rich brother had died in 
America and left him heir to a copper mine^^but the 
shrewd gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth 
was all derived from his having discovered the secret 
guarded by the two marble nymphs of the Alhambra, 
It is remarked that these very discreet statues continue 
even unto the present day with their eyes fixed most 
significantly on the same part of the wall, which leads 
many to suppose there is still some hidden treasure re- 
maining there well worthy the attention of the enterpris- 
ing traveler. Though others, and particularly all female 
visitors, regard them with great complacency as lasting 
monuments of the fact that women can keep a secret. 



MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAR: 

THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA. 

Having dealt so freely in the marvelous legends of 
the Alhambra, I feel as if bound to give the reader a few 
facts concerning its sober history, or rather the history of 
those magnificent princes, its founder and finisher, to 
whom Europe is indebted for so beautiful and romantic 
an Oriental monument. To attain these facts I de- 
scended from this region of fancy and fiction, where 
everything is liable to take an imaginative tint, and car- 
ried my researches among the dusty tomes of the old 
Jesuit's library in the university. This once boasted 
repository of erudition is now a mere shadow of its for- 
mer self, having been stripped of its manuscripts and 
rarest works by the French, while masters of Granada- , 
Still it contains, among many ponderous tomes of 
polemics of the Jesuit fathers, several curious tracts of 
Spanish literature, and above all, a number of those 
antiquated, dusty, parchment-bound chronicles for which 
I have a peculiar veneration. 

In this old library I have passed many delightful hours 
of quiet, undisturbed literary foraging, for the keys of 
the doors and bookcases were kindly intrusted to me, 
and I was left alone to rummage at my leisure — a rare in- 
dulgence in those sanctuaries of learning, which too 



MAE A MAD ABEN ALAHMAE. 215 

often tantalize the thirsty student with the sight of 
sealed fountains of knowledge. 

In the course of these visits I gleaned the following 
particulars concerning the historical characters in ques- 
tion. 

The Moors of Granada Regarded the Alhambra as a 
miracle of art^ and had a tradition that the king who 
founded it dealt in magic, or at least was deeply versed 
in alchemy, by means of which he procured the im- 
mense sums of gold expended in its erection. A brief 
view of his reign will show the real secret of his wealth. 

The name of this monarch, as inscribed on the walls 
of some of the apartments, was Aben Abd^allah {Le., the 
lather of Abdallah), but he is commonly known in Moor- 
ish history as Mahamad Aben Alahmar (or Mahamad son 
of Alahmar), or simply Aben Alahmar, for the sake of 
brevity. 

He was born in Arjona in the year of the Hegira 591, of 
the Christian era 1195, of the noble family of the Beni 
Nasar, or children of Nasar, and no expense was spared 
by his parents to fit him for the high station to which 
the opulence and dignity of his family entitled him. 
The Saracens of Spain were greatly advanced in civiliza- 
tion. Every principal city was a seat of learning and 
the arts, so that it was easy to command the most en- 
lightened instructors for a youth of rank and fortune. 
Aben Alahmar, when he arrived at manly years, was 
appointed Alcayde or governor of Arjona and Jaen, and 
gained great popularity by his benignity and justice. 
Some years afterward, on the death of Aben Hud, the 
Moorish power of Spain was broken into factions, and 
many places delared for Mahamad Aben Alahmar. 
Being of a sanguine spirit and lofty ambition, he seized 
upon the occasion, made a circuit through the country, 
and was everywhere received with acclamation. It was 
in the year 1238 that he entered Granada amid the 
enthusiastic shouts of the multitude. He was proclaimed 
king with every demonstration of joy, and soon become 
the head of the Moslems in Spain, being the first of the 
illustrious line of Beni Nasar that had sat upon the 
throne. 

His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his 
subjects. He g-^ve the command of his various cities to 



516 TBE ALBAMBEA, 

such as had distinguished themselves by valor and pru* 
dence, and who seemed most acceptable to the people. 
He organized a vigilant police and established rigid rules 
for the administration of justice. The poor and the dis- 
tressed always found ready admission to his presence, 
and he attended personally to their assistance and re- 
dress. He erected hospitals for the blind, the aged, and 
infirm, and all those incapable of labor, and visited them 
frequently, not on set days, with pomp and form, so as 
to give time for everything to be put in order and every 
abuse concealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, inform- 
ing himself by actual observation and close inquiry of 
the treatment of the sick and the conduct of those ap- 
pointed to administer to their relief. 

He founded schools and colleges, which he visited in 
the same manner, inspecting personally the instruc- 
tion of the youth. He established butcheries and public 
ovens, that the people might be furnished with whole- 
some provisions at just and regular prices. He intro- 
duced abundant streams of water into the city, erecting 
baths and fountains, and constructing aqueducts and 
canals to irrigate and fertilize the Yega. By these means 
prosperity and abundance prevailed in this beautiful city, 
its gates were thronged with commerce, and its ware- 
houses filled with the luxuries and merchandise of every 
clime and country. 

While Mahamad Aben Alahmar was ruling his fair 
domains thus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly 
menaced by the horrors of war. The Christians at that 
time, profiting by the dismemberment of the Moslem 
power, were rapidly regaining their ancient territories. 
James the Conqueror had subjected all Valentia, and 
Ferdinand the Saint was carrying his victorious armies 
into Andalusia. The latter invested the city of Jaen, 
and swore not to raise his camp until he had gained pos- 
session of the place. Mahamad Aben Alahmar was 
conscious of the insufficiency of his means to carry on a 
war with the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sud- 
den resolution, therefore, he repaired privately to the 
Christian camp, and made his unexpected appearance iu 
the presence of King Ferdinand. *'In me,'' said he, 
'*you behold Mahamad, King of Granada. I confide iu 
your good faith, and put myself under your protection. 



MAHAMAD ABSJN At ABM AH. 217 

Tak? all I possess, and receive me as your vassal/' So 
saying, he knelt and kissed the king's hand in token of 
submission. 

King Ferdinand was touched by this instance of con- 
fiding faith, and determined not to be outdone in gen- 
erosity. He raised his late rival from the earth and em- 
braced him as a friend, nor would he accept the wealth 
he offered, but received him as a vassal, leaving him 
sovereign of his dominions, on condition of paying a 
yearly tribute, attending the cortes as one of the nobles 
of the empire, and serving him in war with a certain 
number of horsemen. 

It was not long after this that Mahamad was called 
upon for his military services, to aid King Ferdinand in 
his famous siege of Seville. The Moorish king sallied 
forth with five hundred chosen horsemen of Granada, 
than whom none in the world knew better how to manage 
the steed or wield the lance. It was a melancholy and 
humiliating service, however, for they had to draw the 
sword against their brethren of the faith. Mahamad 
gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in this 
renowned conquest, but more true honor by the humanity 
which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into 
the usages of war. When, in 1248, the famous city of 
Seville surrendered to the Castilian monarch, Mahamad 
returned sad and full of care to his dominions. He saw 
the gathering ills that menaced the Moslem cause, and 
uttered an ejaculation often used by him in moments of 
anxiety and trouble: ''How straitened and wretched would 
be our life, if our hope were not so spacious and exten- 



sive 



When the melancholy conqueror approached his be- 
loved Granada the people thronged forth to see him with 
impatient joy, for they loved him as a benefactor. They 
had erected arches of triumph in honor of his martial 
exploits, and wherever he passed he was hailed with ac- 
clamations, as El Qaliby or the conquerer; Mahamad 
snook his head when he heard the appellation, '' Wa le 
Oalib iU Aid,'' exclaimed he (there is no conqueror but 
God!). From that ti me forward he adopted this excla- 

*yQue angoste y miserabile seria nuestra vida, sine fuera tan 
ailataaa y espaciosa nuestra esperanzal" 



218 TBIH ALHAMBRA. 

mation as a motto. He inscribed it on an oblique band 
across his escutcheon, and it continued to be the motto 
of his descendants. 

Mahamad had purchased peace by submission to the 
Christian yoke, but he knew that where the elementtk 
were so discordant and the motives for hostility so deep 
and ancient, it could not be secure or permanent. Act- 
ing therefore upon an old maxim, '^Arm thyself in peace 
and clothe thyself in summer,^' he improved the present 
interval of tranquillity by fortifying his dominions and 
replenishing his arsensals, and by promoting those useful 
arts which giv^ wealth and real power to an empire. He 
gave premiums and privileges to the best artisans; im- 
proved the breed of horses and other domestic animals; 
encouraged husbandry; and increased the natural fertility 
of the soil twofold by his protection, making the lonely 
valleys of his kingdom to bloom like gardens. He 
fostered also the growth and fabrication of silk, until 
the looms of Granada surpassed even those of Syria in 
the fineness and beauty of their productions, He more- 
over caused the mines of gold and silver, and other 
metals found in the mountainous regions of his domin- 
ions, to be diligently worked, and was the first king of 
Granada who struck money of gold and silver with his 
name, taking great care that the coins should be skillfully 
executed. 

It was about this time, toward the middle of the 
thirteenth century, and just after his return from the 
siege of Seville, that he commenced the splendid palace 
of the Alhambra: superintending the building of it in 
person, mingling frequently among the artists and work- 
men and directing their labors. 

Though thus magnificent in his works and great in 
his enterprises, he was simple in his person and moder- 
ate in his enjoyments. His dress was not merely void of 
splendor, but so plain as not to distinguish him from his 
subjects. His harem boasted but few beauties, and these 
he visited but seldom, though they were entertained with 
great magnificence. His wives were daughters of the 
principal nobles, and were treated by him as friends and 
rational companions, what is more, he managed to make 
them live as friends with one another. 

He passed much of his time in his gardens; especially 



MABAMAJ) ABEN ALAHMAR. gl 1) 

in those of the Alharabra, which he had stored with the 
rarest plants and the most beautiiul and aromatic flow- 
ers. Here he delighted himself in reading histories, or 
in causing them to be read and related to him; and 
sometimes, in intervals of leisure, employed himself in 
the instruction of his three sons, for whom he had pro- 
vided the most learned and virtuous masters. 

As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a 
tributary vassal to Ferdinand, so he always remained 
loyal to his word, giving him repeated proofs of fidelity 
and attachment. When that renowned monarch died in 
Seville, in 1254, Mahamad Aben Alahmar sent amoassa- 
dors to condole with his successor, Alonzo X., and with 
them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish cavaliers of 
distinguished rank, who were to attend, each bearing a 
lighted taper round the royal bier, during the funeral 
ceremonies. This grand testimonial of respect was re- 
peated by the Moslem monarch during the remainder of 
his life, on each anniversary of the death of King 
Fernando el Santo, when the hundred Moorish knights 
repaired from Granada to Seville, and took their stations 
with lighted tapers in the center of the sumptuous 
cathedral round the cenotaph of the illustrious deceased. 

Mahamad Aben Alahmar retained his faculties and 
vigor to an advanced age. In his seventy-ninth year he 
took the field on horseback, accompanied by the flower 
of his chivalry, to resist an invasion of his territories. 
As the army sallied forth from Granada one of the prin- 
cipal adalides or guides, who rode in the advance, acci- 
dentally broke his lance against the arch of the gate. 
The counselors of the king, alarmed by this circum- 
stance, which was considered an evil omen, entreated 
him to return. Their supplications were in vain. The 
king persisted, and at noontide the omen, say the Moor- 
ish chroniclers, was fatally fulfilled. Mahamad was sud- 
denly struck with illness, and had nearly fallen from his 
horse. He was placed on a litter and borne back toward 
Granada, but his illness increased to such a degree that 
they were obliged to pitch his tent in the Vega. His 
physicians were filled with consternation, not knowing 
what remedy to prescribe. In a few hours he died 
vomiting blood, and in violent convulsions. The Castil- 
lian prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., was by 



^20 THE ALHAMBRA. 

his side when he expired. His body was embalmed, in- 
closed in a silver coffin, and buried in the Alhambra, in 
a sepulcher of precious marble, amid the unfeigned 
lamentations of his subjcts, who bewailed him as a parent. 

Such was the enlightened patriot prince who founded 
the Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned among 
its most delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose 
memory is calculated to inspire the loftiest associations 
in those who tread these fading scenes of his magnifi- 
cence and glory. Though his undertakings were vast 
and his expenditures immense, yet his treasury was 
always full; and this seeming contradiction gave rise to 
the story that he was versed in magic art and possessed 
of the secret for transmuting baser metals into gold. 

Those who have attended to his domestic policy, as 
here set forth, will easily understand the natural magic 
and simple alchemy which made his ample treasury to 
overflow. 



JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS: 

THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBKA. 

Beneath the governor's apartment in the Alhambra is 
the royal mosque, where the Moorish monarchs performed 
their private devotions. Though consecrated as a 
Catholic chapel, it still bears traces of its Moslem origin; 
the Saracenic columns with their gilded capitals, and 
the latticed gallery for the females of the harem, may 
yet be seen, and the escutcheons of the Moorish kings 
are mingled on the walls with those of the Oastilian 
sovereigns. 

In this consecrated place perished the illustrious Jusef 
Abul Hagias, the high-minded prince who completed the 
Alhambra, and who, for his virtues and endowments, 
deserves almost equal renown with its magnanimous 
founder. It is with pleasure I draw forth from the ob- 
scurity in which it has too long remained the name of 
another of those princes of a departed and almost for- 
gotten race, who reigned in elegance and splendor in 
Andalusia, when all Europe was in comparative barbarism. 



JU8EF AB UL HA GIAS. 23 1 

Jusef Abul Hagias (or, as it is sometimes written, 
Haxis) ascended the throne of Granada in the year 1333^ 
and his personal appearance and mental qualities were 
such as to win all hearts and to awaken anticipations of 
a beneficent and prosperous reign. He was of a noble 
presence and great bodily strength, united to manly 
beauty. His complexion was exceeding fair, and accord- 
ing to the Arabian chroniclers, he heightened the gravity 
and majesty of his appearance by suffering his beard to 
grow to a dignified length, and dyeing it black. He had 
an excellent memory, well stored with science and erudi- 
tion; he was of a lively genius, and accounted the best 
poet of his time, and his manners were gentle, affable, 
and urbane. 

Jusef possessed the courage common to all generous 
spirits, but his genius was more calculated for peace 
tiian war, and, though obliged to take up arms re- 
peatedly in his time, he was generally unfortunate. He 
carried the benignity of his nature into warfare, prohibit- 
ing all wanton cruelty, and enjoining mercy and protec- 
tion toward women and children, the aged and infirm, 
and all friars and persons of holy and recluse life. 
Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great 
campaign in conjunction with the king of Morocco, 
against the kings of Castile and Portugal, but was de- 
feated in the memorable battle of Salado — a disastrous 
reverse which had nearly proved a deathblow to the 
Moslem power in Spain. 

Jusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, during 
which time he devoted himself to the instruction of his 
people and the improvement of their morals and man- 
ners. For this purpose he established schools in all the 
villages, with simple and uniform systems of education; 
he obliged every hamlet of more than twelve houses to 
have a mosque, and prohibited various abuses and inde- 
corums that had been introduced into the ceremonies of 
religion and the festivals and public amusements of the 
people. He attended vigilantly to the police of tl^e city, 
establishing nocturnal guards and patrols, and superin- 
tending all municipal concerns. 

His attention was also directed toward finishing the 
great architectural works commenced by his predeces- 
sors, and erecting others on his own plans. The Alhaip^ . 



223 THE ALEAMBBA. 



^ 



bra, which had been founded by the good Aben Alahmar, 
was now completed. Jusef constructed the beautiful gate 
of Justice, forming the grand entrance to the fortress, 
which he finished in 1348. He likewise adorned many 
of the courts and halls of the palace, as may be seen by 
the inscriptions on the walls, in which his name re- 
peatedly occurs. He built also the noble Alcazar, or 
citadel of Malaga; now unfortunately a mere mass of 
crumbling ruins, but which probably exhibited in its 
interior similar elegance and magnificence with the 
Alhambra. 

The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his 
time. The nobles of Granada, imitating the elegant and 
graceful taste of Jusef, soon filled the city of Granada 
with magnificent palaces, the halls of which were paved 
in mosaic, the walls and ceilings wrought in fretwork, 
and delicately gilded and painted with azure, vermilion, 
and other brilliant colors, or minutely inlaid with cedar 
and other precious woods, specimens of which have sur- 
vived in all their luster the lapse of several centuries. 

Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up 
jets of water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty 
towers also, of wood or stone, curiously carved and orna- 
mented, and covered with plates of metal that glittered 
in the sun. Such was the refined and delicate taste in 
architecture that prevailed among this elegant people; 
insomuch, that to use the beautiful simile of an Arabian 
writer, ^^Granada, in the days of Jusef, was as a silver 
vase filled with emeralds and jacinths.'^ 

One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanim- 
ity of this generous prince. The long truce which had 
succeeded the battle of Salado was at an end, and every 
effort of Jusef to renew it was in vain. * His deadly foe, 
Alfonso XI. of Castile, took the field with great force, 
and laid siege to Gibraltar. Jusef reluctantly took up 
arms, and sent troops to the relief of the place; when, 
in the midst of his anxiety, he received tidings that his 
dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim to the plague. 
Instead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Jusef 
called to mind the great qualities of the deceased, and 
was touched with a noble sorrow. '^AlasI'^ cried he, 
^'the world has lost one of its most excellent princes — a 
sovereign who knew bow to honor merit, whether ia 
friend or foeT' ^ 



JUBEP ABUL BAGIAS. 223 

The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to 
this magnanimity. According to their accounts, the 
Moorish cavaliers partook of the sentiment of their king, 
and put on mourning for the death of Alfonso. Even 
those of Gibraltar, who had been so closely invested, 
when they knew that the hostile monarch lay dead in his 
camp, determined among themselves that no hostile 
movement should be made against the Christians. 

The day on which the camp was broken up and the 
army departed, bearing the corpse of Alfonso, the Moors 
issued in multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and 
melancholy, watching the mournful pageant. The same 
reverence for the deceased was observed by all the Moor- 
ish commanders on the frontiers, who suffered the fu- 
neral train to pass in safety, bearing the corpse of the 
Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to Seville.* 

Jusef did not long survive the enemy he had so gen- 
erously deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day 
praying in the royal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac 
rushed suddenly from behind and plunged a dagger in 
his side. The cries of the king brought his guards and 
courtiers to his assistance. They found him weltering 
in his blood, and in convulsions. He was borne to the 
royal apartments, but expired almost immediately. The 
murderer was cut to pieces and his limbs burned in pub- 
lic, to gratify the fury of the populace. 

The body of the king was interred in a superb sepul- 
cher of white marble; a long epitaph in letters of gold 
upon an azure ground recorded his virtues. ^^Here lies 
a king and martyr of an illustrious line, gentle, learned 
and virtuous; renowned for the graces of his person and 
his manners; whose clemency, piety and benevolence 
were extolled throughout the kingdom of Granada. He 
was a great prince, an illustrious captain; a sharp sword 
of the Moslems; a valiant standard-bearer among the 
most potent monarchs,'^ etc. 

The mosque still remains, which once resounded with 

* **Ylos Mores que estaban en la villa y Castillo de Gibraltar 
uespues que sopieron que el Rey Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron 
cntresi que ninguno non fuesse osado de fazer ningun movimiento 
contra los Christianos, nin mover pelear contra ellos, estovieron 
todos quedos y dezian entre ellos que aquel dia muriera un noble 
rey y gran principe (^e\ mumdol" 



224 THE ALHAMBBA. 

the dyiDg cries of Jusef, but the monument which re* 
corded his virtues has long since disappeared. His 
name^ however, remains inscribed among the ornaments 
of the Alhambra, and will be perpetuated in connection 
with this renowned pile, which it was his pride and de- 
light to beautify. 



LEGENDS OF THE C0NQUE82 OF SPAIN. 225 



THE LEGENDS OF THE CONIjUEST OF SPAIN. 



THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK/ 



CHAPTEE L 

THE ANCIENT INHABITANTS OF SPAIN— OF THE MISBULB 
OF WITIZA THE WICKED. 

Spain, or Iberia as it was called in ancient days, has 
been a land harassed from the earliest times by the in- 
vader. The Celts, the Greeks, the Phenicians, the 
Carthaginians, by turns or simultaneously, infringed its 
territories, drove the native Iberians from their rightful 
homes, and established colonies and founded cities in 
the land. It subsequently fell into the all-grasping 
power of Eome, remaining for some time a subjugated 
province; and when that gigantic empire crumbled into 
pieces, the Suevi, the Alani, and the Vandals, those bar- 
barians of the North, overran and ravaged this devoted 
country, and portioned out the soil among them. 

Their sway was not of long duration. In the fifth 
century the Goths, who were then the allies of Eome, 
undertook the reconquest of Iberia, and succeeded, after 
a desperate struggle of three years' duration. They 

* Many of the tacts in this legend are taken from an old chronicle, 
written in quaint and antiquated Spanish, and professing to be a 
translation from the Arabian chronicle of the Moor Rasis, by 
Mohammed, a Moslem writer, and Gil Perez, a Spanish priest. It is 
supposed to be a piece of literary mosaic work, made up from both 
Spanish and Arabian chronicles; yet from this work most of the 
Spanish historians have drawn their particulars relative tc tho 
fortunes of Dop Roderick. 



229 THE ALHAMBRA. 

drove before them the barbarous hordes, their predeces- 
sors, intermarried and incorporated themselves with the 
original inhabitants, and founded a powerful and splen- 
did empire, comprising the Iberian Peninsula, the ancient 
Narbonnaise, afterward called Gallia Gotica, or Gothic 
Gaul, and a part of the African coast called Tingitania. 
A new nation was, in a manner, produced by this mix- 
ture of the Goths and Iberians. Sprung from a union of 
warrior races, reared and nurtured amid the din of 
arms, the Gothic Spaniards, if they may be so termed; 
were a warlike, unquiet, yet high minded and heroic 
people. Their simple and abstemious habits, their con- 
tempt for toil and suffering, and their love of daring 
enterprise fitted them for a soldier's life. So addicted 
were they to war that, when they had no external foes 
to contend with, they fought with one another; and, 
when engaged in battle, says an old chronicler, the very 
thunders and lightnings of heaven could not separate 
them.* 

For two centuries and a half the Gothic power re- 
mained unshaken, and the scepter was wielded by twenty- 
five successive kings. The crown was elective, in a 
council of palatines, composed of the bishops and nobles, 
who, while they swore allegiance to the newly made sover- 
eign, bound him by a reciprocal oath to be faithful to his 
trust. Their choice was made from among the people, 
subject only to one condition, that the king should be of 
pure Gothic blood. But though the crown was elective 
m principle, it gradually became hereditary from usage, 
and the power of the sovereign grew to be almost abso- 
lute. The king was commander-in-chief of the armies; 
the whole patronage of the kingdom was in his hands; 
he summoned and dissolved the national councils; he 
made and revoked laws according to his pleasure; and, 
having ecclesiastical supremacy, he exercised a sway even 
over the consciences of his subjects. 

The Goths^ at the time of their inroad, wer3 stout 
adherents to the Arian doctrines; but after a time they 
embraced the Catholic faith, which was maintained by 
the native Spaniards free from many of the gross super* 

*Florian de Ocampo, lib. 3, c. 12. Justin, Abrev. Trog. Pomp 
L. \\. l^leda. Oronica, L. 2, <?, H. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 337 

stitions of the church at Eome, and this unity of faith 
contributed more than anything else to blend and har- 
monize the two races into one. The bishops and other 
clergy were exemplary in their lives^, and aided to pro- 
mote the influence of the laws and maintain- the author- 
ity of the state. The fruits of regular and secure gov- 
ernment were manifest in the advancement of agricul- 
ture, commerce, and the peaceful arts; and in the in- 
crease of wealth, of luxury, and refinement; but there 
was a gradual decline of the simple, hardy, and warlike 
habits that had distinguished the nation in its semi- 
barbarous days. 

Such was the state of Spain when, in the year of Re- 
demption 701, Witiza was elected to the Gothic throne. 
The beginning of his reign gave promise of happy days 
to Spain. He redressed grievances, moderated the trib- 
utes of his subjects, and conducted himself with mingled 
mildness and energy in the administration of the laws. 
In a little while, however, he threw off the mask, and 
showed himself in his true nature, cruel and luxurious. 

Two of his relatives, sons of a preceding king, awak- 
ened his jealousy for the security of his throne. One of 
them, named Favila, Duke of Cantabria, he put to 
death, and would have inflicted the same fate upon his 
son Pelayo, but that the youth was beyond his reach, 
being preserved by Providence for the future salvation of 
Spain. The other object of his suspicion was Theodo- 
fredo, who lived retired from court. The violence of 
Witiza reached him even in his retirement. His eyes 
were put out, and he was immured within a castle at 
Cordova. Roderick, the youthful son of Theodofredo, 
escaped to Italy, where he received protection from the 
Romans. 

Witiza, now considering himself secure upon the 
throne, gave the reins to his licentious passions, and 
soon, by his tyranny and sensuality, acquired the appel- 
lation of Witiza the Wicked. Despising the old Gothic 
continence, and yielding to the example of the sect of 
Mohammed, which suited his lascivious temperament, he 
indulged in a plurality of wives and concubines, en- 
couraging his subjects to do the same. Nay, he even 
Bought to gain the sanction of the church to his excesses, 
promulgating a law by which the clergy were released 



228 ^-^^ ALHAMBRA. 

from their vows of celibacy, and permitted to marry Anfl 
to entertain paramours. 
The sovereign PontifE Constantino threatened to de- 

{)ose and excommunicate him, unless he abrogated this 
icentious law; but Witiza set him at defiance, threaten- 
ing, like his Gothic predecessor Alaric, to assail the 
. eternal city with his troops, and make spoil of her accu- 
mulated treasures.* *'We will adorn our damsels,'* said 
he, "with the jewels of Eome, and replenish our coffers 
from the mint of St. Peter.'* ■{ 

Some of the clergy opposed themselves to the innovat-" 
ing spirit of the monarch, and endeavored from the 
pulpits to rally the people to the pure doctrines of their 
faith; but they were deposed from their sacred office, 
and banished as seditious mischief-makers. The church 
of Toledo continued refractory; the Archbishop Sin- 
daredo, it is true, was disposed to accommodate himself 
to the corruptions of the times, but the prebendaries 
battled intrepidly against the new laws of the monarch, 
and stood manfully in defense of their vows of chastity. 
''Since the church of Toledo will not yield itself to our 
will,'* said Witiza, ''it shall have two husbands." So 
saying, he appointed his own brother Oppas, at that 
time Archbishop of Seville, to take a seat with Sindaredo 
in the episcopal chair of Toledo, and made him primate 
of Spain. He was a priest after his own heart, and 
seconded him in all profligate abuses. 

It was in vain the denunciations of the church were 
fulminated from the chair of St. Peter; Witiza threw off 
all allegiance to the Eoman pontiff, threatening with 
pain of death those who should obey the papal mandates. 

We will suffer no foreign ecclesiastic, with triple crown,'* 
said he, "to domineer over our dominions." 

The Jews had been banished from the country during 
the preceding reign, but Witiza permitted them to re- 
turn, and even bestowed upon their synagogues privileges 
of which he had despoiled the churches. The children 
of Israel, when scattered throughout the earth by the 
fall of Jerusalem, had carried with them into other lands 
the gainful arcana of traffic, and were especially noted as 

*Chron. de Luitprando, 70d. Abarca, Analas de Aragon (e3 
Mahometismo, Fol. 5) 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 220 

opulent money=changers and curious dealers in gold and 
silver and precious stones; on this occasion^ therefore^ 
they were enabled-, it is said^ to repay the monarch for 
his protection by bags of money and caskets of spar- 
kling gems, the rich product of their Oriental commerce. 

The kingdom at this time enjoyed external peace, but 
there were symptoms of internal discontent. Witiza 
took the alarm; he remembered the ancient turbulence 
of the nation, and its proneness to internal feuds. Issu- 
ing secret orders, therefore, in all directions, he dis- 
mantled most of the cities, and demolished the castles 
and fortresses that might serve as rallying points for the 
factious. He disarmed the people also, and converted 
the weapons of war into the implements of peace. It 
seemed, in fact, as if the millennium were dawning upon 
the land, for the sword was beaten into a plowshare, 
and the spear into a pruning-hook. 

While thus the ancient martial fire of the nation was 
extinguished, its morals likewise were corrupted. The 
altars were abandoned, the churches closed, wide dis- 
order and sensuality prevailed throughout the land, so 
that, according to the old chroniclers, within the com- 
pass of a few short years, *' Witiza the Wicked taught all 
Spain to sin.'* 



CHAPTER 11. 

THE RISE OF DON RODERICK— HIS GOVERNMENT. 

Woe to the ruler who founds his hope of sway on the 
weakness or corruption of the people. The very meas- 
ures taken by Witiza to perpetuate his power insured his 
downfall. While the whole nation, under his licentious 
rule, was sinking into vice and eflfeminacy, and the arm 
of war was unstrung, the youthful Roderick, son of 
Theodofredo, was training up for action in the stern but 
wholesome school of adversity. He instructed himself 
in the use of arms; became adroit and vigorous by varied 
exercises; learned to despise all danger, and inured him- 
self to hunger and watchfulness and the rigor of the 
reasons. 

His merits and misfortunes procx^.red him many friends 



230 ^^^ ALHAMBRA, 






among the Eomans; and when, being arrived at a fittmg 
age, he undertook to revenge the wrongs of his father 
and his kindred, a host of brave and hardy soldiers 
flocked to his standard. With these he made his sudden 
appearance in Spain. The friends of his house and the 
disafEected of all classes hastened to join him, and he 
advanced rapidly and without opposition through an 
unarmed and enervated land. 

Witiza saw too late the evil he had brought upon him- 
self. He made a hasty levy, and took the field with a 
scantily equipped and undisciplined host, but was easily 
routed and made prisoner, and the whole kingdom sub- 
mitted to Don Eoderick. 

The ancient city of Toledo, the royal residence of the 
Gothic kings, was the scene of high festivity and solemn 
ceremonial on the coronation of the victor. Whether he 
was elected to the throne according to the Gothic usage, 
or seized it by the right of conquest, is a matter of dis- 
pute among historians, but all agree that the nation sub- 
mitted cheerfully to his sway, and, looked forward to 
prosperity and happiness under their newly elevated 
monarch. His appearance and character seemed to 
justify the anticipation. He was in the splendor of 
youth, and of a majestic presence. His soul was bold 
and daring, and elevated by lofty desires. He had a 
sagacity that penetrated the thoughts of men, and a 
magnificent spirit that won all hearts. Such is the pic- 
ture which ancient writers give of Don Eoderick, when, 
with all the stern and simple virtues unimpaired, which 
he had acquired in adversity and exile, and flushed with 
the triumph of a pious revenge, he ascended the Gothic 
throne. 

Prosperity, however, is the real touchstone of the 
human heart; no sooner did Eoderick find himself in 
possession of the crown than the love of power and the 
jealousy of rule were awakened in his breast. His first 
measure was against Witiza, who was brought in chains 
into his presence. Eoderick beheld the captive monarch 
with an unpitying eye, remembering only his wrongs and 
cruelties to his father. ''Let the evils he has inflicted 
on others be visited upon his own head," said he; *'as he 
did unto Theodofredo, even so be it done unto him.'* 
So the eyes of Witiza were put out, and he was thrown 



LEGENDS OF TEE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 23i 

into the same dungeon at Cordova in which Theodofredo 
had languished. There he passed the brief remnant of 
his days in perpetual darkness, a prey to wretchedness 
and remorse. 

Koderick now cast an uneasy and suspicious eye upon 
Evan and Siseburto, the two sons of Witiza. Fearful 
lest they should foment some secret rebellion, he ban- 
ished them the kingdom. They took refuge in the 
Spanish dominions in Africa, where they were received 
and harbored by Eequila, governor of Tangier, out of 
gratitude for favors which he had received from their 
late father. There they remained, to brood over their 
fallen fortunes, and to aid in working out the future 
woes of Spain. 

Their uncle Oppas, bishop of Seville, who had been 
made co-partner by Witiza in the archiepiscopal chair at 
Toledo, would have likewise fallen under the suspicion 
of the king; but he was a man of consummate art, and 
vast exterior sanctity, and won upon the good graces of 
the monarch. He was suffered, therefore, to retain his 
sacred office at Seville; but the see of Toledo was given 
in charge to the venerable Urbino; and the law of 
Witiza was revoked that dispensed the clergy from their 
vows of celibacy. 

The jealousy of Koderick for the security of his crown 
was soon again aroused, and his measures were prompt 
and severe. Having been informed that the governors 
of certain castles and fortresses in Castile and Andalusia 
had conspired against him, he caused them to be put to 
death and their strongholds to be demolished. He now 
went on to imitate the pernicious policy of his predeces- 
sor, throwing down walls and towers, disarming the 
people, and thus incapacitating them from rebellion. A 
few cities were permitted to retain their fortifications, 
but these were intrusted to alcaydes in whom he had 
especial confidence; the greater part of the kingdom was 
left defenseless; the nobles, who had been roused to 
temporary manhood during the recent stir of wa^-, sank 
back into the inglorious state of inaction which had dis- 
graced them during the reign of Witiza, passing their 
time in feasting and dancing to the sound of loose and 
wanton minstrelsy.* It was scarcely possible to recog- 

* Mariana, Hist. Esp. L. 6, c. 2J, 



233 THE ALHAMBUA. 

nize in these idle was&ailers and soft voluptuaries the 
descendants of the stern and frugal warriors of the frozen 
North, who had braved flood and mountain, and heat 
and cold, and had battled their way to empire across 
half a world in arms. 

They surrounded their youthful monarch, it is true, 
with a blaze of military pomp. Nothing could surpass 
the splendor of their arms, which were embossed and 
enameled, and enriched with gold and jewels and curi- 
ous devices; nothing could be more gallant and glorious 
than their array; it was all plume and banner and silken 
pageantry, the gorgeous trappings for tilt and tourney 
and courtly revel; but the iron soul of war was wanting. 

How rare it is to learn wisdom from the misfortunes of 
others! With the fate of Witiza full before his eyes, 
Don Eoderick indulged in the same pernicious errors, 
and was doomed, in like manner, to prepare the way for 
his own perdition. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF THE LOVES OF RODERICK AKD THE PRINCESS ELYATA. 

As yet the heart of Eoderick, occupied by the strug- 
gles of his early life, by warlike enterprises, and by the 
inquietudes of newly gotten power, had been insensible 
to the charms of women; but in the present voluptuous 
calm, the amorous propensities of his nature assumed 
their sway. There are divers accounts of the youthful 
beauty who first found favor in his eyes, and was ele- 
vated by him to the throne. We follow in our legend 
the details of an Arabian chronicler,* authenticated by 
a Spanish poet.f Let those who dispute our facts pro- 
duce better authority for their contradiction. 

Among the few fortified places that had not been dis- 
mantled by Don Roderick was the ancient city of Denia, 
situated on the Mediterranean coast, and defended on a 
rock-built castle that overlooked the sea. 

The alcayde of the castle, with many of the people of 

* Perdida de Espaiia, per Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique, lib. 1, 
f Lope de Vega. 



LEQENDS OF THB CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 233 

Denia, was one day on his knees in the chapel, imploring 
the Virgin to allay a tempest which was strewing the 
coast with wrecks, when a sentinel brought word that a 
Moorish cruiser was standing for the land. The alcayde 
gave orders to ring the alarm bells, light signal fires on 
the hill-tops, and rouse the country, for the coast was 
subject to cruel maraudings from the Barbary cruisers. 

In a little while the horsemen of the neighborhood 
were seen pricking along the beach, armed with such 
weapons as they could find, and the alcayde and his 
scanty garrison descended from the hill. In the mean- 
time the Moorish bark came rolling and pitching toward 
the land. As it drew near the rich carving and gilding 
with which it was decorated, its silken bandaroles and 
banks of crimson oars, showed it to be no warlike vessel, 
but a sumptuous galiot destined for state and ceremony. 
It bore the marks of the tempest; the masts were broken, 
the oars shattered, and fragments of snowy sails and 
silken awnings were fluttering in the blast. 

As the galiot grounded upon the sand, the impatient 
rabble rushed into the surf to capture and make spoil; 
but were awed into admiration and respect by the ap- 
pearance of the illustrious company on board. There 
were Moors of both sexes, sumptuously arrayed and 
adorned with precious jewels, bearing the demeanor of 
persons of lofty rank. Among them shone conspicuous 
a youthful beauty, magnificently attired, to whom all 
seemed to pay reverence. 

Several of the Moors surrounded her with drawn 
swords, threatening death to any that approached; others 
sprang from the bark, and throwing themselves on their 
knees before the alcayde, implored him, by his honor 
and courtesy as a knight, to protect a royal virgin from 
injury and insult. 

** You behold before you,'' said they, *'the only 
daughter of the King of Algiers, the betrothed bride 
of the son of the King of Tunis. We were conducting 
her to the court of her expecting bridegroom, when a 
tempest drove us from our course, and compelled us to 
take refuge on your coast. Be not more cruel than the 
tempest, but deal nobly with that which even sea and 
storm have spared.'' 

The alcayde listeuedJiflL their prayers. He conducted 



234 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the princess and her train to the castle, where every 
honor due to her rank was paid her. Some of her 
ancient attendants interceded for her liberation, promise 
ing countless sums to be paid by her father for hej* ran- 
som; but the alcayde turned a deaf ear to all their 
golden offers. '*She is a royal captive/^ said he; ^'it be- 
longs to my sovereign alone to dispose of her.^^ After 
she had reposed, therefore, for some days at the castle, 
and recovered from the fatigue and terror of the seas, he 
caused her to be conducted, with all her train, in mag- 
nificent state to the court of Don Roderick. 

The beautiful Elyata* entered Toledo more like a 
triumphant sovereign than a captive. A chosen band of 
Christian horsemen, splendidly armed, appeared to wait 
upon her as a mere guard of honor. She was surrounded 
by the Moorish damsels of her train and followed by 
her own Moslem guards, all attired with the magnifi- 
cence that had been intended to grace her arrival at the 
court of Tunis. The princess was arrayed in bridal 
robes, woven in the most costly looms of the Orient; her 
diadem sparkled with diamonds and was decorated with 
the rarest plumes of the bird of paradise, and even the 
silken trappings of her palfrey, which swept the ground, 
were covered with pearls and precious stones. As this 
brilliant cavalcade crossed the bridge of the Tagus all 
Toledo poured forth to behold it, and nothing was heard 
throughout the city but praises of the wonderful beauty 
of the Princess of Algiers. King Roderick came forth, 
attended by the chivalry of his court, to receive the royal 
captive. His recent voluptuous life had disposed him 
for tender and amorous affections, and at the first sight of 
the beautiful Elyata he was enraptured with her charms. 
Seeing her face clouded with sorrow and anxiety, he 
soothed her with gentle and courteous words, and con- 
ducting her to a royal palace, ''Behold,'^ said he, **thy 
habitation, where no one shall molest thee; consider thy- 
self at home in the mansion of thy father, and dispose of 
anything according to thy will.'' 

Here the princess passed her time, with the female 
attendants who had accompanied her from Algiers; and 
no one but the king was permitted to visit her, who 

* By some she is called Zara. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUESl OF SPAIN. 235 

daily became more and more enamored of his lovely 
captive, and sought by tender assiduity to gain her affec- 
tions. The distress of the princess at her captivity was 
soothed by this gentle treatment. She was of an age 
when sorrow cannot long hold sway over the heart. 
Accompanied by her youthful attendants, she ranged 
the spacious apartments of the palace, and sported among 
the groves and alleys of its garden. Every day the re- 
membrance of the paternal home grew less and less pain- 
ful, and the king became more and more amiable in her 
eyes; and when, at length, he offered to share his heart 
and throne with her, she listened with downcast looks 
and kindling blushes, but with an air of resignation. 

One obstacle remained to the complete fruition of the 
monarches wishes, and this was the religion of the prin- 
cess. Eoderick forthwith employed the archbishop of 
Toledo to instruct the beautiful Elyata in the mysteries 
of the Christian faith. The female intellect is quick in 
perceiving the merits of new doctrines; the archbishop, 
therefore, soon succeeded in converting, not merely the 
princess, but most of her attendants, and a day was ap- 
pointed for their public baptism. The ceremony was 
performed with great pomp and solemnity, in the pres- 
ence of all the nobility and chivalry of the court. The 
princess and her damsels, clad in white, walked on foot 
to the cathedral, while numerous beautiful children, 
arrayed as angels, strewed their path with flowers; 
and the archbishop meeting them at the portal received 
them, as it were, into the bosom of the church. The 
princess abandoned her Moorish appellation of Elyata, 
and was baptized by the name of Exilona, by which she 
was thenceforth called, and has been generally been 
known in history. 

The nuptials of Eoderick and the beautiful convert 
took place shortly afterward, and were celebrated with 
great magnificence. There were jousts, and tourneys, 
and banquets, and other rejoicings, which lasted twenty 
days, and were attended by the principal nobles from all 
parts of Spain. After these were over, such of the at- 
tendants 01 the princess as refused to embrace Christian- 
ity and desired to return to Africa were dismissed with 
munificent presents; and an embassy was sent to the 
King of Algiers, to inform him of the nuptials of his 



/236 THE ALBAMBBA, 

daughter, and to proffer him the friendship of King 
Roderick.* 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF COUKT JULIAN. 

For a time Don Roderick lived happily with his young 
and beautiful queen, and Toledo was the seat of festivity 
and splendor. The principal nobles throughout the 
kingdom repaired to his court to pay him homage, and 
to receive his commands; and none were more devoted 
in their reverence than those who were obnoxious to 
suspicion from their connection with the late king. 

Among the foremost of these was Count Julian, a man 
destined to be infamously renowned in the dark story of 
his country's woes. He was of one of the proudest 
Gothic families. Lord of Consuegra and Algeziras, and 
connected by marriage with Witiza and the Bishop 
Oppas, his wife, the Countess Frandina, being their 
sister. In consequence of this connection and of his 
own merits, he had enjoyed the highest dignities and 
commands, being one of the Espatorios, or royal sword- 
bearers; an office of the greatest confidence about the 
person of the sovereign, f He had, moreover, been in- 
trusted with the military government of the Spanish 
possessions on the African coast of the strait, which at 
that time were threatened by the Arabs of the East, the 
followers of Mohammed, who were advancing their vic- 
torious standard to the extremity of Western Africa. 

* **Coino esta Infanta era muy hermosa, y el Rey [Don Rodrigo] 
dispuesta y gentil hombre, entro por medio el amor y aficion, y 
junto con el regalo con que la avia mandado hospedar y servir ful 
causa que el rey persuadio esta Infanta, que si se tornava a su ley de 
christiano la tomaria por muger, y que la haria seiiora de sus Reynos. 
Con esta persuasion ell a feu contenta, y aviendose vuelto Christiana, 
se caso con ella, y se celebraron sus bodas con muchas fiestas y 
regozijos, como era razon." — Abulcasim, Conq'st de Espan. cap. 3. 

f Condes Espatorios; so called from the drawn swords of ample 
size and breadth with which they kept guard in the antechamber? 
of the Gothic kings. Comes Spathariorum, custodum corporit 
Regis Profectus. Hunc et Propospatharium appellatum existimo. — 
Patr Pant de Offic. Goth. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 237 

Count Julian established his seat of government at Ceuta, 
the frontier bulwark and one of the far-famed gates of 
the Mediterranean Sea. Here he boldly faced, and held 
in check, the torrent of Moslem invasion. 

Don Julian was a man of an active, but irregular 
genius, and a grasping ambition; he had a love for power 
and grandeur, in which he was joined by his haughty 
countess; and they could ill brook the downfall of their 
house as threatened by the fate of Witiza. They had 
hastened, therefore, to pay their court to the newly ele- 
vated monarch, and to assure him of their fidelity to his 
interests. 

Eoderick was readily persuaded of the sincerity of 
J^ount Julian; he was aware of his merits as a soldier and 
a governor, and continued him in his important com- 
mand: honoring him with many other marks of implicit 
confidence. Count Julian sought to confirm this confi- 
dence by every proof of devotion. It was a custom 
among the Goths to rear many of the children of the 
most illustrious families in the royal household. They 
servea as pages to the king, and handmaids and ladies of 
Honor to the queen, and were instructed in all manner of 
accomplishments befitting their gentle blood. When 
about to depart for Ceuta, to resume his command, Don 
Julian brought his daughter Florinda to present her to 
the sovereigns. She war a beautiful virgin that had not 
as yet attained to womanhood. ^'I confide her to your 
protection,'' said he to the king, ^'to be unto her as a 
father; and to have her trained in the paths of virtue. 
I can leave with you no dearer pledge of my loyalty.'' 

King Eoderick received the timid and blushing maiden 
into his paternal care, promising to watch over her hap- 
piness with a parent's eye, and that she should be en- 
rolled among the most cherished attendants of the queeuo 
With this assurance of the welfare of his child. Count 
Julian departed, well pleased, for his goverp«raent at 
Ceutfto 



338 THE ALHAMBHA. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE 8T0EY OF FLORINDA. 

The beautiful daughter of Count Julian was received 
with great favor by the Queen Exilona and admitted 
among the noble damsels that attended upon her person. 
Here she lived in honor and apparent security, and sur 
rounded by innocent delights. To gratify his queen, 
Don Roderick had built for her rural recreation a palace 
without the walls of Toledo, on the banks of the Tagus. 
It stood in the midst of a garden, adorned after the 
luxurious style of the East. The air was perfumed by 
fragrant shrubs and flowers; the groves resounded with 
the song of the nightingale, while the gush of fountains 
and waterfalls, and the distant murmur of the Tagus, 
made it a delightful retreat during the sultry days of 
summer. The charm of perfect privacy also reigned 
throughout the place, for the garden walls were high, 
and numerous guards kept watch without to protect it 
from all intrusion. 

In this delicious abode, more befitting an Oriental 
voluptuary than a Gothic king, Don Roderick was accus- 
tomed to while away much of that time which should 
have been devoted to the toilsome cares of government. 
The very security and peace which he had produced 
throughout his dominions by his precautions to abolish 
the means and habitudes of war, had effected a disastrous 
change in his character. The hardy and heroic qualities 
which had conducted him to the throne were softened 
in the lap of indulgence. Surrounded by the pleasures 
of an idle and effeminate court, and beguiled by the 
example of his degenerate nobles, he gave way to a fatal 
sensuality that had lain dormant in his nature during 
the virtuous days of his adversity. The mere love of 
female beauty hcid first enamored him of Exilona, and 
the same passion, fostered by voluptuous idleness, now 
betrayed him into the commission of an act fatal to him- 
self and Spain. The following is the story of his error 
as gathered from an old chronicle and legend. 

In a remote part of the palace was an apartment de- 
voted to the queen. It was like an Eastern harem, shut 
up from the foot of man, and where the king himself 



LEGENDS OF THE CONqUEST OF SPAIN, 239 

but rarely entered. It had its own courts, and gardens, 
»nd fountains, where the queen was wont to recreate 
herself with her damsels, as she had been accustomed to 
Ao in the jealous privacy of her father^s palace. 

One sultry day the king, instead of taking his siesta, 
or midday slumber, repaired to this apartment to seek 
the society of the queen. In passing through a small 
oratory he was drawn by the sound of female voices to 
a casement overhung with myrtles and jessamines. It 
looked into an interior garden or court, set out with 
orange-trees, in the midst of which was a marble foun- 
tain, surrounded by a grassy bank, enameled with 
flowers. 

It was the high noontide of a summer day, when, in 
sultry Spain, the landscape trembles to the eye, and all 
nature seeks repose, except the grasshopper, "that pipes 
his lulling note to the herdsman as he sleeps beneath 
the shade. 

Around the fountain were several of the damsels of 
the queen, who, confident of the sacred privacy of the 
place, were yielding in that cool retreat to the indulgence 
prompted by the season and the hour. Some lay asleep 
on the flowery bank; others sat on the margin of the 
fountain, talking and laughing, as they bathed their feet 
in its limpid waters, and King Eoderick beheld delicate 
limbs shining through the wave, that might rival the 
marble in whiteness. 

Among the damsels was one who had come from the 
jiarbary coast with the queen. Her complexion had the 
dark tinge of Mauritania, but it was clear and trans- 
parent, and the deep rich rose blushed through the 
lovely brown. Her eyes were black and full of fire, and 
flashed from under long silken eyelashes. 

A sportive contest arose among the maidens as to the 
comparative beauty of the Spanish and Moorish forms, 
but the Mauritanian damsel revealed limbs of voluptuous 
symmetry that seemed to defy all rivalry. 

The Spanish beauties were on the point of giving up 
the contest, when they bethought themselves of the 
young Florinda, the daughter of Count Julian, who lay 
on the grassy bank, abandoned to a summer slumber. 
The soft glow of youth and health mantled on her cheek; 
her fringed eyelashes scarcely covered their sleeping 



g40 THE ALMAMBRA. 

orbs; h^r moist and ruby lips were slightly parted, just 
revealing a gleam of her ivory teeth^ while her innocent 
bosom rose and fell beneath her bodice^ like the gentle 
swelling and sinking of a tranquil sea. There was a 
breathing tenderness and beauty in the sleeping virgin 
that seemed to send forth sweetness like the flowers 
around her. 

^'Behold/^ cried her companions exultingly, **the 
champion of Spanish beauty!'^ 

In their playful eagerness they half disrobed the inno- 
cent Florinda before she was aware. She awoke in time, 
however, to escape from their busy hands; but enough 
of her charms had been revealed to convince the mon- 
arch that they were not to be rivaled by the rarest beau- 
ties of Mauritania. 

From this day the heart of Eoderick was inflamed 
with a fatal passion. He gazed on the beautiful Florinda 
with fervid desire, and sought to read in her looks 
whether there was levity or wantonness in her bosom; 
but the eye of the damsel ever sank beneath his gaze, 
and remained bent on the earth in virgin modesty. 

It was in vain he called to mind the sacred trust re- 
posed in him by Count Julian, and the promise he had 
given to watch over his daughter with paternal care; his 
heart was vitiated by sensual indulgence, and the con- 
sciousness of power had rendered him selfish in his grati- 
fications. 

Being one evening in the garden where the queen was 
diverting herself with her damsels, and coming to the 
fountain where he had beheld the innocent maidens at 
their sport, he could no longer restrain the passion that 
raged within his breast. Seating himself beside the 
fountain, he called Florinda to him to draw forth a thorn 
which had pierced his hand. The maiden knelt at his 
feet, to examine his hand^ and the touch of her slender 
fingers thrilled through his veins. As she knelt, too, 
her amber locks fell in rich ringlets about her beautiful 
head, her innocent bosom palpitated beneath the crim- 
son bodice, and her timid blushes increased the effulgence 
of her charms. 

Having examined the monarches hand in vain, she 
looked up in his face with artless perplexity. 

**Sefior," said sh«, '*I can find no thorn^ nor any siga 
of wound/' , . 



LEGENDS OF THE GONQ UEST OF SPAIN. 241 

Don Eoderick grasped her hand and pressed it to his 
heart. ^*It is here, lovely MorindaP^ said he, ''It is 
here! and thou alone canst pluck it forth !'^ 

''My lord!'^ exclaimed the blushing and astonished 
maiden. 

"Florindal^'said Don Roderick, "dost thou love me?'^ 

"Seflor/^ said she, "my father taught me to love and 
reverence you. He confided me to your care as one who 
would be as a parent to me, when he should be far dis- 
tant, serving your majesty with life and loyalty. May 
God incline your majesty ever to protect me as a father.'^ 
So saying, the maiden dropped her eyes to the ground, 
and continued kneeling: but her countenance had be- 
come deadly pale, and as she knelt she trembled. 

"Florinda,^' said the king, "either thou dost not, or 
thou wilt not understand me. I would have thee love 
me, not as a father, nor as a monarch, but as one who 
adores thee. Why dost thou start? No one shall know 
our loves; and, moreover the love of a monarch inflicts 
no degradation like the love of a common man — riches 
and honors attend upon it. I will advance thee to rank 
and dignity, and place thee above the proudest females 
of my court. Thy father, too, shall be more exalted and 
endowed than any noble in my realm. ^^ 

The soft eye of Florinda kindled at these words. 
"Seflor,^' said she, "the line I spring from can receive 
no dignity by means so vile; and my father would rather 
die than purchase rank and power by the dishonor of his 
child. But I see,^^ continued she, "that your majesty 
speaks in this manner only to try me. You may have 
thought me light and simple, and unworthy to attend 
upon the queen. I pray your majesty to pardon me, 
that I have taken your pleasantry in such serious part.'' 

In this way the agitated maiden sought to evade the 
addresses of the monarch, but still her cheek was 
blanched, and her lip quivered as she spoke. 

The king pressed her hand to his lips with fervor. 
"May ruin seize me," cried he, "if I speak to prove 
thee. My heart, my kingdom, are at thy command. 
Only be mine, and thou shalt rule absolute mistress of 
myself and my domains." 

The damsel rose from the earth where she had hitherto 
knelt^ and her whgle countenance glowed with virtuous 



242 THE ALHAMBRA. 

indignation. ^^My lord/^ said she, *'I am your subject, 
and in your power; take my life if it be your pleasure, 
but nothing shall tempt me to commit a crime which 
would be treason to the queen, disgrace to my father, 
agony to my mother, and perdition to myself.'^ With 
these words she left the garden, and the king, for the 
moment, was too much awed by her indignant virtue to 
oppose her departure. 

We shall pass briefly over the succeeding events of the 
story of Florinda, about which so much has been said 
and sung by chronicler and bard: for the sober page of 
history should be carefully chastened from all scenes that 
might inflame a wanton imagination— leaving them to 
poems and romances, and such like highly seasoned 
works of fantasy and recreation. 

Let it suffice to say that Don Eoderick pursued his 
suit to the beautiful Florinda, his passion being more 
and more inflamed by the resistance of the virtuous 
damsel. At length, forgetting what was due to helpless 
beauty, to his own honor as a knight, and his word as a 
sovereign, he triumphed over her weakness by base and 
unmanly violence. 

There are not wanting those who affirm that the hap- 
less Florinda lent a yielding ear to the solicitations of 
the monarch, and her name has been treated with oppro- 
brium in several of the ancient chronicles and legendary 
ballads that have transmitted, from generation to genera- 
tion, the story of the woes of Spain. In very truth, 
however, she appears to have been a guiltless victim, 
resisting, as far as helpless female could resist, the arts 
and intrigues of a powerful monarch, who had naught to 
check the indulgence of his will, and bewailing her dis- 
grace with a poignancy that shows how dearly she had 
prized her honor. 

In the first paroxysm of her grief she wrote a letter to 
her father, blotted with her tears and almost incoherent 
from her agitation. *'Would to God, my father,'' said 
she, *Hhat the earth had opened and swallowed me ere I 
had been reduced to write these lines. I blush to tell 
thee what it is not proper to conceal. Alas, my father! 
thou hast intrusted thy lamb to the guardianship of the 
lion. Thy daughter has been dishonored, the royal 
cradle of the Goths polluted, and our lineage insulted 



LEGENDS OF THE CoNQ UEST OF SPAIN. 243 

and disgraced. Hasten, my father, to rescue your child 
from the power of the spoiler, and to vindicate the honor 
of your house.^^ 

When Florinda had written these lines she summoned 
a youthful esquire, who had been a page in the service 
of her father. "Saddle thy steed, ^^ said she, "and if 
thou dost aspire to knightly honor, or hope for lady's 
grace; if thou hast fealty for thy lord, or devotion to 
his daughter, speed swiftly upon my errand. Eest not, 
halt not, spare not the spur, but hie thee day and night 
until thou reach the sea; take the first bark, and haste 
with sail and oar to Ceuta, nor pause until thou give this 
letter to the count my father." The youth put the 
letter in his bosom. "Trust me, lady,'' said he, "I will 
neither halt, nor turn aside, nor cast a look behind, 
until I reach Count Julian." He mounted his fleet 
steed, sped his way across the bridge, and soon left be- 
hind him the verdant valley of the Tagus. 



CHAPTER VL 

PON RODERICK RECEIVES AK EXTRAORDIKARY EMBASSY. 

The heart of Don Roderick was not so depraved by 
sensuality but that the wrong he had been guilty of 
toward the innocent Florinda, and the disgrace he had 
inflicted on her house, weighed heavy on his spirits, and 
a cloud began to gather on his once clear and unwrinkled 
brow. 

Heaven, at this time, say the old Spanish chronicles, 
permitted a marvelous intimation of the w^'ath with 
which it intended to visit the monarch and his people, 
in punishment of their sins; nor are we, say the same 
orthodox writers, to startle and withhold our faith when^ 
we meet in the page of discreet and sober history with 
these signs and portents, which transcend the probabili- 
ties of ordinary life; for the revolutions of empires and 
the downfall of mighty kings are awful events, that shake 
the physical as well as the moral world, and are often 
announced by forerunning marvels and prodigious 
omens. 

With such like cautious weliminaries do the wary but 



244 THE ALEAMBBA. < 

credulous historiographers of yore usher in a marvelous 
event of prophecy and enchantment, linked in ancient 
story with the fortunes of Don Roderick, but which 
modern doubters would fain hold up as an apocryphal 
tradition of Arabian origin. 

Now, so it happened, according to the legend, that 
about this time, as King Roderick was seated one day on 
his throne, surrounded by his nobles, in the ancient city 
of Toledo, two men of venerable appearance entered the 
hall of audience. Their snowy beards descended to their 
breasts, and their gray hairs were bound with ivy. They 
were arrayed in white garments of foreign or antiquated 
fashion, which swept the ground, and were cinctured 
with girdles, wrought with the signs of the zodiac, from 
which were suspended enormous bunches of keys of every 
variety of form. Having approached the throne and 
made obeisance: ^'Know, king,'^ said one of the old 
men, 'Hhat in days of yore, when Hercules of Libya, 
surnamed the Strong, had set up his pillars at the ocean 
strait, he erected a tower near to this ancient city of 
Toledo. He built it of prodigious strength, and finished 
it with magic art, shutting up within it a fearful secret, 
never to be penetrated without peril and disaster. To 
protect this terrible mystery he closed the entrance to 
the edifice with a ponderous door of iron, secured by a 
great lock of steel, and he left a command that every 
king who should succeed him should add another lock to 
the portal; denouncing woe and destruction on him 
who should eventually unfold the secret of the tower. 

''The guardianship of the portal was given to our an- 
cestors, and has continued in our family, from generation 
to generation, since the days of Hercules. Several kings 
from time to time have caused the gate to be thrown 
open, and have attempted to enter, but have paid dearly 
for their temerity. Some have perished within the 
tl reshold, others have been overwhelmed with horror at 
tremendous sounds, which shook the foundations of the 
earth, and have hastened to reclose the door and secure 
it with its thousand locks. Thus, since the days of 
Hercules, the inmost recesses of the pile have never been 
penetrated by mortal man, and a profound mystery con- 
tinues to prevail over this great enchantment. This, 
O king, is all we have to relatej and our errand is to 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQ If EST OF SPAm, 245 

entreat thee to repair to the tower and aflBx thy lock to 
the portal, as has been done by all thy predecessors.'- 
Having thus said, the ancient men made a profound 
reverence and departed from the presence chamber.* 

Don Boderick remained for some time lost in thought 
after the departure of the men; he then dismissed all his 
court excepting the venerable Urbino, at that time 
archbishop of Toledo. The long white beard of this 
prelate bespoke his advanced age, and his overhanging 
eyebrows showed him a man full of wary counsel. 

'^Father/^ said the king, "I have an earnest desire to 
penetrate the mystery of this tower. '^ The worthy prel- 
ate shook his hoary head. ^'Beware, my son,'' said he; 
"there are secrets hidden from man for his good. Your 
predecessors for many generations have respected this 
mystery, and have increased in might and empire. A 
knowledge of it, therefore, is not material to the welfare 
of your kingdom. Seek not then to indulge a rash and 
unprofitable curiosity, which is interdicted under such 
awful menaces.'' 

'^Of what importance," cried the king, "are the 
menaces of Hercules the Libyan? was he not a pagan, 
and can his enchantments have aught avail against a 
believer in our holy faith? Doubtless in this tower are 
locked up treasures of gold and jewels, amassed in days 
of old, the spoils of mighty kings, the riches of the pagan 
world. My coffers are exhausted; I have need of sup- 
ply; and surely it would be an acceptable act in the eyes 
of Heaven to draw forth this wealth which lies buried 
under profane and necromantic spells, and consecrate 
it to religious purposes." 

The venerable archbishop still continued to remon- 
strate, but Don Eoderick heeded not his counsel, for he 
was led on by his malignant star. "Father," said he, "it 
is in vain you attempt to dissuade me. My resolution is 
fixed. To-morrow I will explore the hidden mystery, or 
rather the hidden treasures, of this tower." 

*Perdida de Espana, por Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique, 1. 1, c. 6. 
Cronica del Key Don Rodrigo, por el Moro Rasis^ 1. 1, c. t Bleda 
Cron. cap. vii 



246 TEB ALHAMBMA 

CHAPTEE VIL r 

STORY OP THE MARVELOUS AND PORTENTOUS TOWEE. 

The morning sun shone brightly upon the cliff-built 
towers of Toledo, when King Roderick issued out of the 
gate of the city at the head of a numerous train of cour* 
tiers and cavaliers, and crossed the bridge that bestrides 
the deep rocky bed of the Tagus. The shining cavalcade 
wound up the road that leads among the mountains, and 
soon came in sight of the necromantic tower. 

Of this renowned edifice marvels are related by the 
ancient Arabian and Spanish chroniclers, *^and I doubt 
much,'' adds the venerable Agapida, '^whether many 
readers will not consider the whole as a cunningly de- 
vised fable, sprung from an Oriental imagination; but it 
is not for me to reject a fact which is recorded by all 
those writers who are the fathers of our national history; 
a fact, too, which is as well attested as most of the re- 
markable events in the story of Don Eoderick. None 
but light and inconsiderate minds,'' continues the good 
friar, '^do hastily reject the marvelous. To the think- 
ing mind the whole world is enveloped in mystery, and 
everything is full of type and portent. To such a mind 
the necromantic tower of Toledo will appear as one of 
those wondrous monuments of the olden time; one of 
those Egyptian and Chaldaic piles, storied with hidden 
wisdom and mystic prophecy, which have been devised 
in past ages, when man yet enjoyed an intercourse with 
high and spiritual natures, and when human foresight 
partook of divination." 

This singular tower was round and of great height and 
grandeur, erected upon a lofty rock, and surrounded by 
crags and precipices. The f®undation was supported by 
four brazen lions, each taller than a cavalier on horse- 
back. The walls were built of small pieces of jasper and 
various colored marbles, not larger than a man's hand; 
so subtilely joined, however, that, but for their different 
hues, they might be taken for one entire stone. They 
were arranged with marvelous cunning so as to represent 
battles and warlike deeds of times and heroes long since 
passed away, and the whole surface was so admirably 
polished that the stones were as lustrous as glass, ana 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQ VEST OF SPAm. ^47 

reflected the rays of the sun with such resplendent 
brightness as to dazzle all beholders.* 

King Koderick and his courtiers arrived wondering 
and amazed at the foot of the rock. Here there was a 
narrow arched way cut through the living stone — the 
only entrance to the tower. It was closed by a massive 
iron gate covered with rusty locks of divers workmanship 
and in the fashion of different centuries, which had been 
affixed by the predecessors of Don Eoderick. On either 
side of the portal stood the two ancient guardians of the 
tower, laden with the keys appertaining to the locks. 

The king alighted and, approaching the portals, 
ordered the guardians to unlock the gate. The hoary- 
headed men drew back with terror. ^*Alas!'' cried they^; 
^Svhat is it your majesty requires of us? Would you 
have the mischiefs of this tower unbound and let loose 
to shake the earth to its foundations?'^ 

The venerable Archbishop Urbino likewise implored 
him not to disturb a mystery which had been held sacred 
from generation to generation within the memory of 
man, and which even Caesar himself, when sovereign of 
Spain, had not ventured to invade. The youthful cava- 
liers, however, were eager to pursue the adventure, and 
encouraged him in his rash curiosity. 

^^Come what come may,'' exclaimed Don Eoderick, ^'I 
am resolved to penetrate the mystery of this tower.'' So 
saying, he again commanded the guardians to unlock 
the portal. The ancient men obeyed with fear and 
trembling, but their hands shook with age, and when 
they applied the keys the locks were so rusted by time, 
or of such strange workmanship, that they resisted their 
feeble efforts, whereupon the young cavaliers pressed 
forward and lent their aid. Still, the locks were so 
numerous and difficult that with all their eagerness and 
strength a great part of the day was exhausted before 
the whole of them could be mastered. ^ 

When the last bolt had yielded to the key the guarti- 
ians and the reverend archbishop again entreated the 
king to pause and reflectc '^Whatever is within this 

* From the minute account of the good friar, drawn from the 
ancient chronicles, it would appear that the walls of the tower w^re 
pictured in mosaic work. 



248 TEE ALEA }£BRA, 



1 



tower,'* said they, ^^is as yet harmless and lies bounfl 
under a mighty spell: venture not then to open a door 
which may let forth a flood of evil upon the land/' 
But the anger of the king was roused, and he ordered 
that the portal should be instantly thrown open. In 
vain, however, did one after another exert his strength, 
and equally in vain did the cavaliers unite their forces, 
and apply their shoulders to the gate; though fchere was 
neithei bar nor bolt remaining, it was perfectly im- 
movable. 

The patience of the king was now exhausted, and he 
advanced to apply his hand; scarcely, however, did he 
touch the iron gate, when it swung slowly open, utter- 
ing, as it were, a dismal groan as it turned reluctantly 
upon its hinges. A cold damp wind issued forth, accom- 
panied by a tempestuous sound. The hearts of the 
ancient guardians quaked within them, and their knees 
smote together; but several of the youthful cavaliers 
rushed in, eager to gratify their curiosity, or to signalize 
themselves in this redoubtable enterprise. They had 
scarcely advanced a few paces, however, when they re- 
coiled, overcome by the baleful air or by some fearful 
vision.* Upon this, the king ordered that fires should 
be kindled to dispel the darkness and to correct the 
noxious and long imprisoned air; he then led the way 
into the interior; but though stout of heart, he advanced 
with awe and hesitation. 

After proceeding a short distance he entered a hall, 
or antechamber, on the opposite of which was a door, 
and before it, on a pedestal, stood a gigantic figure, of 
the color of bronze, and of a terrible aspect. It held a 
huge mace, which it twirled incessantly, giving such cruel 
and resoanding blows upon the earth as to prevent all 
further entrance. 

The king paused at sight of this appalling figure, for 
.(Whether it were a living being, or a statue of magic 
artifice, he could not tell. On its breast was a scroll 
whereon was inscribed in large letters, "I do my duty.^'f 
After a little while Roderick picked up heart, and ad- 
dressed it with great solemnity: ^'Whatever thou be," said 
he, ''know that I come not to violate this sanctuary, but to 

^ Bleda, Cronica, cap. 7, \ Idem. 



LEGENDS OF TEE CONqUEST OF SPAIN. 249 

inquire into the mystery it contains; I conjure thee, 
therefore, to let me pass in safety.'' 

Upon this the figure paused with uplifted mace, and 
the king and his train passed unmolested through the 
door. 

They noTV entered a vast chamber, of a rare and 
sumptuous architecture, difficult to be described. The 
walls were encrusted with the most precious gems, so 
joined together as to form one smooth and perfect sur- 
face. The lofty dome appeared to be self-supported, and 
was studded with gems, lustrous as the stars of the firma- 
ment. There was neither wood nor any other common 
or base material to be seen throughout the edifice. 
There were no windows or other openings to admit the 
day, yet a radiant light was spread throughout the place, 
which seemed to shine from the walls, and to render 
every object distinctly visible. 

In the center of this hall stood a table of alabaster of 
the rarest workmanship, on which was inscribed in Greek 
characters, that Hercules Alcides, the Theban Greek, 
had founded this tower in the year of the world three 
thousand and six. Upon the table stood a golden casket, 
richly set round with precious stones, and closed with a 
lock of mother-of-pearl, and on the lid were inscribed 
the following words: 

^^In this coffer is contained the mystery of the tower. 
The hand of none but a king can open it; but let him 
beware! for marvelous events will be revealed to him, 
which are to take place before his death. '^ 

King Roderick boldly seized upon the casket. The 
venerable archbishop laid his hand upon his arm and 
made a last remonstrance. '*Forbear, my son!'^ said he; 
^'desist while there is yet time. Look not into the mys- 
terious decrees of Providence. God has hidden them in 
mercy from our sight, and it is impious to rend the veil 
by which they are concealed.'' 

*'What have I to dread from a knowledge of the 
future?" replied Roderick, with an air of haughty pre- 
sumption. *'If good be destined me, I shall enjoy it by 
anticipation; if evil, I shall arm myself to meet it.'* So 
saying, he rashly broke the lock. 

Within the coffer he found nothing but a linen cloth, 
folded between two tablets of coppero On unfolding it 



250 2HE ALHAMBRA. 

he beheld painted on it figures of men on horseback, of 
fierce demeanor, clad in turbans and robes of various 
colors, after the fashion of the Arabs, with scimitars 
hanging from their necks and crossbows at their saddle- 
backs, and they carried banners and pennons with divers 
devices. Above them was inscribed in Greek characters, 
*'Eash monarch! behold the men who are to hurl thee 
from thy throne and subdue thy kingdom!'^ 

At sight of these things the king was troubled in 
spirit, and dismay fell upon his attendants. While thej 
were yet regarding the paintings, it seemed as if the 
figures began to move, and a faint sound of warlike 
tumult arose from the cloth, with the clash of cymbal 
and bray of trumpet, the neigh of steed and shout of 
army; but all was heard indistinctly, as if afar off, or in a 
reverie or dream. The more they gazed, the plainer be- 
came the motion and the louder the noise, and the linen 
cloth rolled forth, and amplified, and spread out, as it 
were, a mighty banner, and filled the hall, and mingled 
with the air, until its texture was no longer visible, or 
appeared as a transparent cloud. And the shadowy 
figures appeared all in motion, and the din and uproar 
became fiercer and fiercer; and whether the whole were 
an animated picture, or a vision, or an array of embodied 
spirits, conjured up by supernatural power, no one 
present could tell. They beheld before them a great- 
field of battle, where Christians and Moslems were en- 
gaged in deadly conflict. They heard the rush and 
tramp of steeds, the blast of trump and clarion, the clash 
of cymbal, and the stormy din of a thousand drums. 
There was the clash of swords, and maces, and battle- 
axes, with the whistling of arrows and the hurtling of 
darts and lances. The Christians quailed before the foe; 
the infidels pressed upon them and put them to utter 
rout; the standard of the cross was cast down, the ban- 
ner of Spain was trodden under foot, the air resounded 
with shouts of triumph, with yells of fury, and with 
the groans of dying men. Amid the flying squadrons 
King Roderick beheld a crowned warrior, whose back 
was toward him, but whose armor and device were his 
own and who was mounted on a white steed that re- 
sembled his own warhorse Orelia. In the confusion of 
the flight the warrior was dismounted and was no longer 



LEGENDS OF TEE VOlSqUEBT OF SPAtJf. 251 

to be seen,, ^.nd Orelia galloped wildly through the field 
of battle without a rider, 

Roderick stayed to see no more, but rushed from the 
fatal hall, followed by his terrified attendants. They 
fled through the outer chamber, where the gigantic 
figure with the whirling mace had disappeared from his 
pedestal, and on issuing into the open air, they found 
the two ancient guardians of the tower lying dead at the 
portal, as though they had been crushed by some mighty 
blow. All nature, which had been clear and serene, was 
now in wild uproar. The heavens were darkened by 
heavy clouds; loud bursts of thunder rent the air, and 
the earth was deluged with rain and rattling hail. 

The king ordered that the iron portal should be closed, 
bat the door was immovable, and the cavaliers were dis- 
mayed by the tremendous turmoil and the mingled 
shouts and groans that continued to prevail within. The 
king and his train hastened back to Toledo, pursued and 
pelted by the tempest. The mountains shook and 
echoed with the thunder, trees were uprooted and blown 
down, and the Tagus raged and roared and flowed above 
its banks. It seemed to the affrighted courtiers as if 
the phantom legions of the tower had issued forth and 
mingled with the storm; for amid the claps of thunder 
and the howling of the wind they fancied they heard 
the sound of the drums and trumpets, the shouts of 
armies, and the rush of steeds. Thus beaten by tem- 
pest and overwhelmed with horror the king and his cour- 
tiers arrived at Toledo, clattering across the bridge of 
the Tagus, and entering the gate in headlong confusion 
as though they had been pursued by an enemy. 

In the morning the heavens were again serene, and all 
nature was restored to tranquillity. The king, therefore, 
issued forth with his cavaliers, and took the road to the 
tower, followed by a great multitude, for he was anxious 
once more to close the iron door and shut up those evils 
that threatened to overwhelm the land. But lo! oncom- 
ing in sight of the tower a new wonder met their eyes. An 
eagle appeared high in the air, seeming to descend from 
heaven, lie bore in his beak a burning brand and, light- 
ing on the summit of the tower, fanned the fire with his 
wings. In a little while the edifice burst forth into a 
hhzQ, as though it bad boon b:iiltof rosi*^, aud the flumes 



252 TSE ALHAMBRA. 

mounted into the air with a brilliancy more dazzling 
than the sun; nor did they cease until every stone was 
consumed and the whole was reduced to a heap of ashes. 
Then there came a vast flight of birds, small of size and 
• sable of hue, darkening the sky like a cloud; and they 
descended and wheeled in circles round the ashes, causing 
so great a wind with their wings that the whole was 
borne up into the air and scattered throughout all Spain, 
and wherever a particle of that ashes fell it was as a 
stain of blood. It is furthermore recorded by ancient 
men and writers of former days that all those on whom 
this dust fell were afterward slain in battle, when the 
country was conquered by the Arabs, and that the de- 
struction of this necromantic tower was a sign and token 
of the approaching perdition of Spain. 

''Let all those,^^ concludes the cautious friar, ''who 
question the verity of this most marvelous occurrence 
consult those admirable sources of our history, the 
chronicle of the Moor Kasis, and the work entitled. The 
.Fall of Spain, written by the Moor Abulcasim Tarif 
Abentarique. Let them consult, moreover, the venera- 
ble historian Bleda, and the cloud of other Catholic 
Spanish writers who have treated of this event, and they 
will find I have related nothing that has not been printed 
and published under the inspection and sanction of our 
holy mother church. God alone knoweth the truth of 
these things; I speak nothing but what has been handed 
down to me from times of old.^^ 



CHAPTER VIIL 

COUNT JULIAN — HIS FORTUNES IN AFRICA — HE HEARS 
OF THE DISHONOR OF HIS CHILD — HIS CONDUCT 
THEREUPON. 

The course of our legendary narration now returns to 
notice the fortunes of Count Julian, after his departure 
from Toledo, to resume his government on the coast of 
Barbary. He left the Countess Frandina at Algeziras, 
his paternal domain, for the province under his com- 
mand was threatened with invasion. In fact, when he 
arrived at Ceuta he found his post in imminent danger 



LEGBFD8 OF TEE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 253 

from the all-conquering Moslems. The Arabs of the 
East, the followers of Mohammed, having subjugated 
several of the most potent Oriental kingdoms, had estab- 
lished their seat of empire at Damascus, where at thia 
time it was filled by Waled Almanzor, surnamed ^'The 
Sword of God.'^ From thence the tide of Moslem con- 
quest had rolled on to the shores of the Atlantic, so 
that all Almagreb, or Western Africa, had submitted to 
the standard of the Prophet, with the exception of a 
portion of Tingitania, lying along the straits: being the 
province held by the Goths of Spain and commanded by 
Count Julian. The Arab invaders were a hundred thou- 
sand strong, most of them veteran troops, seasoned in 
warfare and accustomed to victory. They were led by 
an old Arab general, Muza ben Nosier, to whom was 
confided the government of Almagreb; most of which 
he had himself conquered. The ambition of this veteran 
was to make the Moslem conquest complete, by expell- 
ing the Christians from the African shores; with this 
view his troops menaced the few remaining Gothic for- 
tresses of Tingitania, while he himself sat down in per- 
son before the walls of Ceuta. The Arab chieftain had 
been rendered confident by continual success, and thought 
nothing could resist his arms and the sacred standard of 
the Prophet. Impatient of the tedious delays of a siege, 
he led his troops boldly against the rock -built towers of 
Ceuta, and attempted to take the place by storm. The 
onset was fierce and the struggle desperate; the swarthy 
sons of the desert were light and vigorous and of fiery 
spirit, but the Goths, inured to danger on this frontier, 
retained the stubborn valor of their race, so impaired 
among their brethren in Spain. They were commanded, 
too, by one skilled in warfare and ambitious of renown. 
After a vehement conflict the Moslem assailants were 
repulsed from all points, and driven from the walls. 
Don Julian sallied forth and harassed them in their re- 
treat, and so severe was the carnage that the veteran 
Muza was fain to break up his camp and retire con- 
founded from the siege. 

The victory at Ceuta 'resounded throughout Tingi- 
tania, and spread universal joy. On every side were 
heard shouts of exultation mingled with praises of Count 
Julian. He was hailed by the people, wherever he went. 



254 '^SE ALEAUBBA. 

as their deliverer, and blessings were invoked upon hit 
head. The heart of Count Julian was lifted up, and hig 
spirit swelled within him; but it was with noble and 
virtuous pride, for he was conscious of having merited 
t.he blessings of his country. 

In the midst of his exultation, and while the rejoicings 
of the people were yet sounding in his ears, the page 
a'rrived who bore the letter from his unfortunate 
daughter. 

^'What tidings from the king?*^ said the count, as the 
page knelt before him. *'None, my lord,'' replied the 
youth; *^but I bear a letter sent in all haste by the Lady 
Florinda.'' 

He took the letter from his bosom and presented it to 
his lord. As Count Julian read it his countenance dark- 
enjed and fell. ^^This,'' said he bitterly, ^is my reward 
for serving a tyrant; and these are the honors heaped on 
me by my country while fighting its battles in a foreign 
land. May evil overtake me and infamy rest upon my 
name, if I cease until I have full measure of revenge. '* 

Count Julian was vehement in his passions, and took 
no counsel in his wrath. His spirit was haughty in the 
extreme, but destitute of true magnanimity, and when 
once wounded turned to gall and venom. A dark and 
malignant hatred entered into his soul, not only against 
Don Roderick, but against all Spain; he looked upon it as 
the scene of his disgrace, a land in which his family was 
dishonored, and, in seeking to avenge the wrongs he had 
suffered from his sovereign, he meditated against his 
native country one of the blackest schemes of treason 
that ever entered into the human heart. 

The plan of Count Julian was to hurl King Roderick 
from his throne, and to deliver all Spain into the hands 
of the infidels. In concerting and executing this treach- 
erous plot, it seemed as if his whole nature was changed; 
-every lofty and generous sentiment was stifled, and he 
stooped to the meanest dissimulation. His first object 
was to extricate his family from the power of the king 
and to remove it from Spain before his treason should 
be known; his next, to deprive the country of its remain- 
ing means of defense against an invader. 

With these dark purposes at heart, but with an open 
^nd serene countenance, he grossed to Spain and re- 



LEGENDS OF TUB CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 255 

paired to the court at Toledo* Wherever he came he 
was hailed with acclamation^ as a victorious general^ and 
appeared in the presence of his sovereign radiant with 
the victory at Ceuta. Concealing from King Eoderick 
his knowledge of the outrage upon his house, he pro- 
fessed nothing but the most devoted loyalty and affec- 
tion. 

The king loaded him with favors, seeking to appease 
his own conscience by heaping honors upon the father in 
atonement of the deadly wrong inflicted upon his child. 
He regarded Count Julian, also, as a man able and ex- 
perienced in warfare, and took his advice in all matters 
relating to the military affairs of the kingdom. The 
count magnified the dangers that threatened the frontier 
under his command, and prevailed upon the king to send 
thither the best horses and arms remaining from the time 
of Witiza, there being no need of them in the center of 
Spain, in its present tranquil state. The residue, at his 
suggestion, was stationed on the frontiers of Gallia; so 
that the kingdom was left almost wholly without defense 
against any sudden irruption from the south. 

Having thus artfully arranged his plans, and all things 
being prepared for his return to Africa, he obtained per- 
mission to withdraw his daughter from the court and 
leave her with her mother, the Countess Frandina, who, 
he pretended, lay dangerously ill at Algeziras. Count 
Julian issued out of the gate of the city, followed by a 
shining band of chosen followers, while beside him, on 
a palfrey, rode the pale and weeping Florinda. The 

Eopulace hailed and blessed him as he passed, but his 
eart turned from them with loathing. As he crossed 
the bridge of the Tagus he looked back with a dark brow 
upon Toledo, and raised his mailed hand and shook it at 
the royal palace of King Eoderick which crested the 
rocky height. ^^A father's curse,^' said he, ''be upon 
thee and thine! may desolation fall upon thy dwelling, 
and confusion and defeat upon thy realm!'' 

In his journeyings through the country he looked 
round him with a malignant eye; the pipe of the shep- 
herd and the song of the husbandman were as discord 
to his soul; every sight and sound of human happiness 
sickened him at heart; and, in the bitterness of his spirit, 
ho Drayed that he might see the whole scene of prosper* 
ttj Wd waato with iire lUia ^word li^ the invader. 

1 - 



056 TEE ALIIAMBRA. 

The story of domestic outrage and disgrace had ai« 
ready been made known to the Countess Frandina. 
When the hapless Florinda came in presence of her 
mother she fell on her neck, and hid her face in her 
bosom, and wept; but the countess shed never a tear, for 
she was a woman haughty of spirit and strong of heart. 
She looked her husband sternly in the face. ^Terdi- 
tion light upon thy head,'^ said she, ''if thou submit to 
this dishonor. For my own part, woman as I am, I will 
assemble the followers of my house, nor rest until rivers 
of blood have washed away this stain.'* 

*'Be satisfied,'^ replied the count; "vengeance is on 
foot, and will be sure and ample." 

Being now in his own domains, surrounded by his rela- 
tives and friends. Count Julian went on to complete his 
web of treason. In this he was aided by his brother-in- 
law, Oppas, the bishop of Seville: a dark man and per- 
fidious as the night, but devout in demeanor, and smooth 
and plausible in council. This artful prelate had con- 
trived to work himself into the entire confidence of the 
king, and had even prevailed upon him to permit his 
nephews, Evan and Siseburto, the exiled sons of Witiza, 
to return into Spain. They resided in Andalusia, and 
were now looked to as fit instruments in the present 
traitorous conspiracy. 

By the advice of the bishop. Count Julian called a 
secret meeting of his relatives and adherents on a wild, 
rocky mountain, not far from Consuegra, and which still 
bears the Moorish appellation of "La Sierra de Calderin,** 
or the mountain of treason.* When all were assembled 
Count Julian appeared among them, accompanied by 
the bishop and by the Countess Frandina. Then gather- 
ing around him those who w^ere of his blood and kindred^ 
he revealed the outrage that had been offered to their 
house. He represented to them that Eoderick was their 
legitimate enemy; that he had dethroned Witiza, their 
relation, and had now stained the honor of one of the 
most illustrious daughters of their line. The Countess 
Frandina seconded his words. She was a woman majes- 
tic in person and eloquent of tongue, and being inspired 
by a mother's feelings, her speech aroused the assembled 
cavaliers to fury. 

^Bleda, cap. (i 



II f i I 

LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 257 

The count took advantage of the excitement of the 
moment to nnfold his plan. The main object was to 
dethrone Don Koderick and give the crown to the sons 
of the late King Witiza. By this means they would 
visit the sins of the tyrant upon his head, and, at the 
same time, restore the regal honors to their line. For 
this purpose their own force would be insufficient, but 
they might procure the aid of Muza ben Nosier, the 
Arabian general, in Mauritania, who would, no doubt, 
gladly send a part of his troops into Spain to assist in 
the enterprise. 

The plot thus suggested by Count Julian received the 
unholy sanction of Bishop Oppas, who engaged to aid it 
secretly with all his influence and means; for he had 
great wealth and possessions, and many retainers. The 
example of the reverend prelate determined all who 
might otherwise have wavered, and they bound them- 
selves by dreadful oaths to be true to the conspiracy. 
Count Julian undertook to proceed to Africa and seek 
the camp of Muza, to negotiate for his aid, while the 
bishop tvas to keep about the person of King Roderick, 
and lead him into the net prepared for him. 

All things being thus arranged. Count Julian gathered 
together his treasure, and taking his wife and daughter 
and all his household, abandoned the country he meant 
to Letray, embarking at Malaga for Ceuta. The gate of 
the wall of that city, through which they went forth, 
continued for ages to bear the name of Puerta de la Cava^ 
or the gate of the harlot; for such was the opprobrious 
and unmerited appellation bestowed by the Moors on tho 
unhappy Florinda.* 



CHAPTER IX. 

SECRET VISIT OF COUNT JULIAN TO THE ARAB CAMP- 
FIRST EXPEDITION OF TARIC EL TUERTO. 

When Count Julian had placed his family in security 
in Ceuta, surrounded by soldiery devoted to his fortunes, 
he took with him a few confidential followers and de* 

*Bleda., cap. 4c 



258 THE ALRAMBBA. 

parted In secret for the camp of the Arabian emirp 
Muza ben Nosier. The camp was spread out in one of 
those pastoral valleys which lie at the feet of the Barbary 
hills, with the great range of the Atlas Mountains tower- 
ing in the distance. In the motley army here assembled 
were warriors of every tribe and nation that had been 
united by pact or conquest in the cause of Islam. There 
were those who had followed Muza from the fertile 
regions of Egypt across the deserts of Barca, and those 
who had joinea his standard from among the sunburnt 
tribes of Mauritania. These were Saracen and Tartar, 
Syrian and Copt, and swarthy Moor; sumptuous war- 
riors from the civilized cities of the East, and the gaunt 
and predatory rovers of the desert. The greater part of 
the army, however, was composed of Arabs; but differ- 
ing greatly from the first rude hordes that enlisted under 
the banner of Mohammed. Almost a century of continual 
wars with the cultivated nations of the East had rendered 
them accomplished warriors; and the occasional sojourn 
in luxurious countries and populous cities had ac- 
quainted them with the arts and habits of civilized life. 
Still, the roving, restless and predatory habits of the 
genuine son of Ishmael prevailed, in defiance of every 
change of clime or situation. 

Count Julian found the Arab conqueror Muza sur- 
rounded by somewhat of Oriental state and splendor. 
He was advanced in life, but of a noble presence, and 
concealed his age by tinging his hair and beard with 
henna. The count assumed an air of soldier-like frank- 
ness and decision when he came into his presence. 
*^Hitherto,''said he, *'we have been enemies; but I come 
to thee in peace, and it rests with thee to make me the 
most devoted of thy friends. I have no longer country 
or king. Eoderick the Goth is an usurper, and my 
deadly foe; he has wounded my honor in the tenderest 
point, and my country affords me no redress. Aid me 
in my vengeance, and I will deliver all Spain into thy 
hands — a land far exceeding in fertility and wealth all 
the vaunted regions thou hast conquered in Tingitania.^^ 

The heart of Muza leaped with joy at these words, for 
he was a bold and ambitious conqueror, and having over- 
run all Western Africa, had often cast a wistful eye to 
the mountains of Spain, as he beheld them brightening 



LBGBNBS OF THE COJ^QUEST OF 8PAm. 259 

beyond the waters of the strait. Still he possessed the 
caution of a veteran, and feared to engage in an enter- 
prise of such moment^ and to carry his arms into another 
division of the globe^ without the approbation of his 
sovereign. Having drawn from Count Julian the partic- 
ulars of his plan and of the means he possessed to carry 
it into effect, he laid them before his confidential coun- 
selors and officers, and demanded their opinion. ''These 
words of Count Julian, ^^ said he, ''may be false and de- 
ceitful; or he may not possess the power to fulfill his 
promises. The whole may be a pretended treason to 
draw us on to our destruction. It is more natural that 
he should be treacherous to us than to his country.^* 

Among the generals of Muza was a gaunt, swarthy 
veteran, scarred with wounds; a very Arab, whose great 
delight was roving and desperate enterprise, and who 
cared for nothing beyond his steed, his lance, and scimi- 
tar. He was a native of Damascus; his name was Taric 
ben Zeyad, but, from having lost an eye, he was known 
among the Spaniards by the appellation of Taric el 
Tuerto, or Taric, the one-eyed. 

The hot blood of this veteran Ishmaelite was in a 
ferment when he heard of a new country to invade and 
vast regions to subdue, and he dreaded lest the cautious 
hesitation of Muza should permit the glorious prize to 
escape them. "You speak doubtingly,^^ said he, "of 
the words of this Christian cavalier, but their truth is 
easily to be ascertained. Give me four galleys and a 
handful of men, and I will depart with this Count 
Julian, skirt the Christian coast, and bring thee back 
tidings of the land, and of his means to put it in our 
power. ^^ 

The words of the veteran pleased Muza ben Nosier, 
and he gave his consent; and Taric departed with four 
galleys and five hundred men, guided by the traitor 
Julian.* This first expedition of the Arabs against 
Spain took place, according to certain historians, in the 
year of our Lord seven hundred and twelve; though 
others differ on this point, as indeed they do upon 
almost every point in this early period of Spanish his- 

*Beuter, Cron. Gen. de Espafia. L. 1, c. *^8. Marmol. Descrip. 
dc Africa, L. 2, c- 10. 



260 THE ALHAMBBA, 

tory. The date to which the judicious chroniclers in* 
cline is that of seven hundred and ten, in the month of 
Juljo It would appear from some authorities, also, that 
the galleys of Taric cruised along the coasts of Andalusia 
and Lusitania, under the feigned character of merchant 
barks, nor is this at all improbable, while they were seek- 
ing merely to observe the land and get a knowledge of 
the harbors. Wherever they touched. Count Julian 
dispatched emissaries to assemble his friends and ad- 
herents at an appointed place. They gathered together 
secretly at Gezira Alhadra, that is to say, the Green 
Island, where they held a conference with Count Julian 
in presence of Taric ben Zeyad.* Here they again 
avowed their readiness to flock to his standard whenever 
it should be openly raised, and made known their various 
preparations for a rebellion. Taric was convinced, by 
all that he had seen and heard, that Count Julian had 
not deceived them, either as to his disposition or his 
means to betray his country. Indulging his Arab incli- 
nations, he made an inroad into the land, collected great 
spoil and many captives, and bore off hig plunder in 
triumph to Muza, as a specimen of the riches to be 
gained by the conquest of the Christian land.f 




CHAPTER X. 

LETTER OF MUZA TO THE CALIPH— SECOND EXPEDITION 
OF TARIC EL TUERTO. 

On hearing the tidings brought by Taric el Tuerto, 

and beholding the spoil he had collected, Muza wrote a 

letter to the Caliph Waled Almanzor, setting forth the 

craitorous proffer of Count Julian, and the probability 

through his means, of making a successful invasion oi 

Spain. ^'A new land,^' said he, ^^spreads itself out be 

tore our delighted eyes and invites our conquest. A 

land, too, that equals Syria in the fertility of its soil 

and the serenity of its sky; Yemen, or Arabia the happy, 

., its delightful temperature; India in its flowers and 
— — ■ .^ 

Bleda, Cron. c. 5. 
< Conde, Hist. Dom Arab, part 1, c. 8. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 261 

spices; Hegiaz in its fruits and flowers; Cathay in its 
precious minerals, and Aden in the excellence of its 
ports and harbors. It is populous also, and wealthy; 
having many splendid cities and majestic monuments of 
ancient art. What is to prevent this glorious land from 
becoming the inheritance of the faithful? Already we 
have overcome the tribes of Berbery, of Zab, of Derar, 
of Zaara, Mazamuda and Sus, and the victorious standard 
of Islam floats on the towers of Tangier. But four 
leagues of sea separate us from the opposite coast. One 
word from my sovereign, and the conquerors of Africa 
will pour their legions into Andalusia, rescue it from the 
domination of the unbeliever, and subdue it to the law 
of the Koran. ^^ * 

The caliph was overjoyed with the contents of the 
letter. ''God is great!'' exclaimed he, ''and Mohammed is 
his prophet! It has been foretold by the ambassador of 
God that his law should extend to the ultimate parts of 
the West, and be carried by the sword into new and un- 
known regions. Behold, another land is opened for the 
triumphs of the faithful. It is the will of Allah, and be 
his sovereign will obeyed.'' So the caliph sent missives 
to Muza, authorizing him to undertake the conquest. 

Upon this there was a great stir of preparation, and 
numerous vessels were assembled and equipped at Tan- 
gier to convey the invading army across the straits. 
Twelve thousand men were chosen for this expedition — 
most of them light Arabian troops, seasoned in warfare^ 
and fitted for hardy and rapid enterprise. Among them 
were many horsemen, mounted on fleet Arabian steeds. 
The whole was put under the command of the veteran 
Taric el Tuerto, or the one-eyed, in whom Muza reposed 
implicit confidence as in a second self. Taric accepted 
the command with joy; his martial fire was roused at the 
idea of having such an army under his sole command, 
and such a country to overrun, and he secretly deter- 
mined never to return unless victorious. 

He chose a dark night to convey his troops across the 
straits of Hercules, and by break of day they began to 
disembark at Tarifa before the country had time to take 
the alarm. A few Christians hastily assembled from the 

*Conde, part 1, c. 8. 



8C;i THE ALtiAMBRA. 

neighborhood and opposed their landings but were easily 
put to flight, Taric stood on the seaside and watched 
until the last squadron had landed, and all the horses, 
armor, and munitions of war were brought on shore; he 
then gave orders to set fire to the ships. The Moslems 
were struck with terror when they beheld their fleet 
wrapped in flames and smoke, and sinking beneath the 
waves. *'How shall we escape,'' exclaimed they, 'Mf the 
fortune of war should be against us?'' '^There is no 
escape for the coward!" cried Taric; '*the brave man 
thinks of none; your only chance is victory.'^ ''But 
how without ships shall we ever return to our homes?''' 
''Your home," replied Taric, "is before you; but you 
must win it with your swords." 

While Taric was yet talking with his followers, says 
one of the ancient chroniclers, a Christian female was 
descried waving a white pennon on a reed, in signal of 
peace. On being brought into the presence of Taric 
she prostrated herself before him. "Seflor," said she, "I 
am an ancient woman; and it is now full sixty years past 
and gone since, as I was keeping vigils one winter's night 
by the fireside, I heard my father, who was an exceeding 
old man, read a prophecy said to have been written by a 
holy friar; and this was the purport of the prophecy, 
that a time would arrive when our country would be in- 
vaded and conquered by a people from Africa of a strange 
garb, a strange tongue, and a strange religion. They 
were to be led by a strong and valiant captain, who 
would be known by these signs: on his right shoulder he 
would have a hairy mole, and his right arm would be 
much longer than the left, and of such length as to en- 
able him to cover his knee with his hand without bend- 
ing his body." 

lario listened to the old beldame with grave attention, 
and when she had concluded he laid bare his shoulder, 
and lo! there was the mole as it had been described; his 
right arm, also, was in verity found to exceed the other 
in length, though not to the degree that had been men- 
tioned. Upon this the Arab host shouted for joy, and 
felt assured of conquest. 

The discreet Antonio Agapida, though he records this 
circumstance as it is set down in ancient chronicle, yet 
withholds his belief from the pretended prophecy, cou' 



LEGENDS OF TEE COirqUEST OF SPAIN. 363 

sidering the whole a cunning device of Taric to increase 
the courage of his troops. '^Doubtless/' says he, ^Hher© 
was a collusion between this ancient sibyl and the crafty 
son of Ishmael; for these infidel leaders were full of 
damnable inventions to work upon the superstitious 
fancies of their followers, and to inspire them with a 
blind confidence in the success of their arms/' 

Be this as it may, the veteran Taric took advantage of 
the excitement of his soldiery, and led them forward to 
gain possession of a stronghold, which was, in a manner, 
the key to all the adjacent country. This was a lofty 
mountain or promontory almost surrounded by the sea, 
and connected with the mainland by a narrow isthmus. 
It was called the rock of Oalpe, and, like the opposite 
rock of Ceuta, commanded the entrance to the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. Here, in old times, Hercules had set up one 
of his pillars and the city of Heraclea had been built. 

As Taric advanced against this promontory he was 
opposed by a hasty levy of the Christians, who had as- 
sembled under the banner of a Gothic noble of great 
power and importance, whose domains lay along the 
mountainous coast of the Mediterranean. The name of 
this Christian cavalier was Theodomir, but he has uni- 
versally been called Tadmir by the Arabian historians, 
and is renowned as being the first commander that made 
any stand against the inroad of the Moslems. He was 
about forty years of age, hardy, prompt, and sagacious; 
and had all the Gothic nobles been equally vigilant and 
shrewd in their defense, the banner of Islam would 
never have triumphed over the land. 

Theodomir had but seventeen hundred men under his 
command, and these but rudely armed; yet he made a 
resolute stand against the army of Taric, and defended 
the pass to the promontory with great valor. He was at 
length obliged to retreat, and Taric advanced and planted 
his standard on the rock of Calpe, and fortified it as his 
stronghold, and as the means of securing an entrance 
into the land. To commemorate his first victory, he 
changed the name of the promontory, and called it Gibel 
Taric, or the Mountain of Tarib, but in process of time 
the name has gradually been altered to Gibraltar. 

In the meantime, the patriotic chieftain Theodomir, 
having collected his routed forces, encamped with them 



264 THE ALHAMBRA. 

on the skirts of the mountains, and summoned the 
country round to join his standard. He sent off missives 
in all speed to the king, imparting in brief and blunt 
terms the news of the invasion, and craving assistance 
with equal frankness. '^Sefior,^^ said he, in his letter, 
'Hhe legions of Africa are upon us, but whether they 
come from heaven or earth I know not. They seem to 
have fallen from the clouds, for they have no ships. We 
have been taken by surprise, overpowered by numbers, 
and obliged to retreat; and they have fortified them- 
selves in our territory. Send us aid, seflor, with instant 
speed, or rather, come yourself to our assistance/^ * 



CHAPTER XL 

MEASURES OF DON" RODERICK ON" HEARING OF THB 
INVASION — EXPEDITION OP ATAULPHO — VISION OF 
TARIC. 

When Don Roderick heard that legions of turbaned 
troops had poured into the land from Africa, he called 
to mind the visions and predictions of the necromantic 
tower, and great fear came upon him. But, though 
sunk from his former hardihood and virtue, though 
enervated by indulgence and degraded in spirit by a 
consciousness of crime, he was resolute of soul, and 
roused himself to meet the coming danger. He sum- 
moned a hasty levy of horse and foot, amounting to 
forty thousand; but now were felt the effects of the 
crafty counsel oE Count Julian, for the best of the horses 
and armor intended for the public service had been sent 
into Africa, and were really in possession of the traitors. 
Many nobles, it is true, took the field with the sumptu- 
ous array with which they had been accustomed to appear 
at tournaments and jousts, but most of their vassals were 
destitute of weapons, and cased in cuirasses of leather, 
or suits of armor almost consumed by rust. They were 
without discipline or animation; and their horses, like 
themselves, pampered by slothful peace, were little fitted 
lo bear the heat, the dust, and toil of long campaigns. 

* Conde, part 1, c. 9. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN, 265 

This army Don Eoderick put under the command of 
his kinsman Ataulpho, a prince of the royal blood of the 
Goths, and of a noble and generous nature; and he 
ordered him to march with all speed to meet the foe, 
and to recruit his forces on the way with the troops of 
Theodomir. 

In the meantime, Taric el Tuerto had received large 
reenforcements from Africa, and the adherents of Count 
Julian, and all those discontented with the sway of Don 
Eoderick, had flocked to his standard; for many were 
deceived by the representations of Count Julian, and 
thought that the Arabs had come to aid him in placing 
the sons of Witiza upon the throne. Guided by the 
count, the troops of Taric penetrated into various parts 
of the country and laid waste the land, bringing back 
loads of spoil to their stronghold at the rock of Calpe. 

The Prince Ataulpho marched with his army through 
Andalusia, and was joined by Theodomir with his troops; 
he met with various detachments of the enemy foraging 
the country and had several bloody skirmishes; but he 
succeeded in driving them before him, and they retreated 
to the rock of Calpe, where Taric lay gathered up with 
the main body of his army. 

The prince encamped not far from the bay which 
spread itself out before the promontory. In the evening 
he dispatched the veteran Theodomir, with a trumpet, 
to demand a parley of the Arab chieftain, who received 
the envoy in his tent, surrounded by his captains. 
Theodomir was frank and abrupt in speech,for the most of 
his life had been passed far from courts. He delivered, 
in round terms, the message of the Prince Ataulpho; 
upbraiding the Arab general with his wanton invasion of 
the land, and summoning him to surrender his army or 
to expect no mercy. 

The single eye of Taric el Tuerto glowed like a coal of 
fire at this message. "Tell your commander,^' replied 
he, "that I have crossed the strait to conquer Spain, nor 
will I return until I have accomplished my purpose. 
Tell him I have men skilled in war, and armed in proof, 
with whose aid I trust soon to give a good account of his 
rabble host." 

A murmur of applause passed through the assemblage 
of Moslem captains. Theodomir glanced on them a look 



g6« THE ALBAMBRA. 

of defiaDce, but his eye rested on a renegado ChristiaK, 
one of his own ancienfc comrades, and a relation of Count 
Julian. **As to you, Don Graybeard/' said h^/*you who 
turn apostate in your declining age, I here pronounce 
you a traitor to your God, your king, and country; and 
stand ready to prove it this instant upon your body, if 
field be granted me.'' 

The traitor knight was stung with rage at these words, 
for truth rendered them piercing to the heart. He 
would have immediately answered to the challenge, but 
Taric forbade it, and ordered that the Christian envoy 
should be conducted from the camp. ^' 'Tis well,'' re- 
plied Theodomir, ^'God will give me the field which you 
deny. Let yon hoary apostate look to himself to-morrow 
in the battle, for I pledge myself to use my lance upon 
no other foe until it has shed his blood upon the native 
soil he has betrayed." So saying, he left the camp, nor 
could the Moslem chieftains help admiring the honest 
indignation of this patriot knight, while they secretly 
despised his renegado adversary. 

The ancient Moorish chroniclers relate many awful 
portents and strange and mysterious visions, which ap 
peared to the commanders of either army during this 
anxious night. Certainly it was a night of fearful sus- 
pense, and Moslem and Christian looked forward with 
doubt to the fortune of the coming day. The Spanish 
sentinel walked his pensive round, listening occasionally 
to the vague sounds from the distant rock of Calpe, and 
eyeing it as the mariner eyes the thunder-cloud, pregnant 
with terror and destruction. The Arabs, too, from their 
lofty cliffs beheld the numerous camp-fires of the Chris- 
tians gradually lighted up, and saw that they were a 
powerful host; at the same time the night breeze brought 
to their ears the sullen roar of the sea which separated 
them from Africa. When they considered their perilous 
situation, an army on one side, with a whole nation 
aroused to reenforce it, and on the other an impassable 
sea, the spirits of many of the warriors were cast down, 
and they repented the day when they had ventured into 
this hostile land. 

Taric marked their despondency, but said nothing. 
Scarce had the first streak of morning light trembled 
along the sea, however, when he summoned his principal 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 26t 

warriors to his tent. ^^Be of good cheer/' said he; 
*^Allah is with us, and has sent his Prophet to give as- 
surance of his aid. Scarce had I retired to my tent last 
night, when a man of a majestic and venerable presence 
stood before me. He was taller by a palm than the ^ 
ordinary race of men, his flowing beard was of a golden 
hue, and his eyes were so bright that they seemed to 
send forth flashes of fire. I have heard the Emir Ba- 
hamet, and other ancient men, describe the Prophet, 
whom they had seen many times while on earth, and 
such was his form and lineament. ^Fear nothing, O 
Taric, from the morrow,' said he; 'I will be with thee in 
the fight. Strike boldly, then, and conquer. Those of 
thy followers who survive the battle will have this land 
for an inheritance; for those who fall, a mansion in para- 
dise is prepared, and immortal houris await their com- 
ing.' He spake and vanished; I heard a strain of 
celestial melody, and my tent was filled with the odors 
of Arabia the happy.'' '^Such," say the Spanish chroni- 
clers, '*was another of the arts by which this arch son of 
Ishmael sought to animate the hearts of his followers; 
and the pretended vision has been recorded by the 
Arabian writers as a veritable occurrence. Marvelous, 
indeed, was the effect produced by it upon the infidel 
soldiery, who now cried out with eagerness to be led 
against the foe." 



CHAPTER XIL 

BATTLE OF CALPE— FATE OF ATAULPHO. 

The gray summits of the rock of Calpe brightened 
with the first rays of morning, as the Christian army 
issued forth from its encampment. The Prince Ataulpho 
rode from squadron to squadron, animating his soldiers 
for the battle. ''Never should we sheathe our swords," 
said he, ''while these infidels have a footing in the land. 
They are pent up within yon rocky mountain; we must 
assail them in their rugged hold. We have a long day 
before us; let not the setting sun shine upon one of their 
host who is not a fugitive, a captive, or a corpse." 

The words of the prince were received with shouts, 



368 ^^^ ALHAMBRA. 

and the army moved toward the promontory. As they 
advanced they heard the clash of cymbals and the bray 
of trumpets^, and the rocky bosom of the mountain glit- 
tered with helms and spears and scimitars; for the Arabs, 
inspired with fresh confidence by the words of Taric/ 
were sallying forth with flaunting banners to the combat. 

The gaunt Arab chieftain stood upon a rock as his 
troops marched by; his buckler was at his back, and he 
brandished in his hand a double-pointed spear. Calling 
upon the several leaders by their names, he exhorted 
them to direct their attacks against the Christian cap- 
tains, and especially against Ataulpho; *^for the chiefs 
being slain,'' said he, "their followers will vanish from 
before us like the morning mist.'' 

The Gothic nobles were easily to be distinguished by 
the splendor of their arms, but the Prince Ataulpho was 
conspicuous above all the rest for the youthful grace and 
majesty of his appearance, and the bravery of his array. 
He was mounted on a superb Andalusian charger, richly 
caparisoned with crimson velvet, embroidered with gold. 
His surcoat was of like color and adornment, and the 
plumes that waved above his burnished helmet werjB^of 
the purest white. Ten mounted pages, magnificently 
attired, followed him to the field, but their duty ,was not 
so much to fight as to attend upon their low^, and to 
furnish him with steed or weapon. ^ :' 

The Christian troops, though irregular and^'findis' 
ciplined, were full of native courage; for the old war- 
rior spirit of their Gothic sires still glowed in their 
bosoms. There were two battalions of infaii'try> but 
Ataulpho stationed them in the rear; ''for God*"forbid,'^ 
said he, *Hhat foot-soldiers should have ,tK^ place of 
honor in the battle, when I have so maii^3a|valiant cava- 
liers." As the armies drew nigh to eacn other, how- 
ever, it was discovered that the advance of the Arabs was 
composed of infantry. Upon this the cavaliers checked 
their steeds, and requested that the foot-soldiery might 
advance and disperse this losel crew, holding it beneath 
their dignity to contend with pedestrian foes. The 
prince, however, commanded them to charge; upon 
which, putting spurs to their steeds, they rushed upon 
the foe. 

The Arabs stood the shock manfully, receiving tha 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 26f 

horses upon the points of their lances; many of the riders 
were shot down with bolts from crossbows, or stabbed 
with the poniards of the Moslems. The cavaliers suc- 
ceeded, however, in breaking into the midst of the bat- 
talion and throwing it into confusion, cutting down some 
with their swords, transpiercing others with their spears, 
and trampling many under the hoofs of their horses. At 
this moment they were attacked by a band of Spanish 
horsemen, the recreant partisans of Count Julian. 
Their assault bore hard upon their countrymen, who 
were disordered by the contest with the foot-soldiers, 
ana many a loyal Christian knight fell beneath the sword 
oi an unnatural foe. 

The foremost among these recreant warriors was th© 
renegade cavalier whom Theodomir had challenged in 
the tent of Taric. He dealt his blows about him with a 
powerful arm and with malignant fury, for nothing is 
more deadly than the hatred of an apostate. In the 
midst of his career he was espied by the hardy Theodomir, 
wno came spurring to the encounter. ^ 'Traitor,'^ cried 
he, ^'I have kept my vow. This lance has been held 
sacred from all other foes to make a passage for thy per- 
jured soul.^' The renegade had been renowned for 
prowess before he became a traitor to his country, but 
guilt will sap the courage of the stoutest heart. When 
he beheld Theodomir rushing upon him he would have 
turned and fled; pride alone withheld him; and, though 
an admirable master of defense, he lost all skill to ward 
the attack of his adversary. At the first assault the 
lance of Theodomir pierced him through and through; 
he fell to the earth, gnashed his teeth as he rolled in the 
dust, but yielded his breath without uttering a word. 

The battle now became general, and lasted throughout 
the morning with varying success. The stratagem of 
Taric, however, began to produce its effect. The Chris- 
tian leaders and most conspicuous cavaliers were singled 
out and severally assailed by overpowering numbers. 
They fought desperately and performed miracles of 
prowess, but fell, one by one, beneath a thousand wounds. 
Still the battle lingered on throughout a great part of 
the day, and as the declining sun shone through the 
clouds of dust it seemed as if the conflicting hosts wer© 
wrapped in smoke aud fire. 



270 THE ALHAMBEA. 

The Prince Ataulpho saw that the fortune of battU 
was against him. He rode about the field calling out the 
names of the bravest of his knights, but few answered to 
his call; the rest lay mangled on the field. With fchia 
handful of warriors he endeavored to retrieve the day, 
when he was assailed by Tenderos, a partisan of Count 
Julian, at the head of a body of recreant Christians. At 
sight of this new adversary fire flashed from the eyes of 
the prince, for Tenderos had been brought up in his 
father's palace. ^^Well dost thou, traitor!'^ cried he, 
^Ho attack the son of thy lord, who gave thee bread; 
thou, who hast betrayed thy country and thy God!'^ 

So saying, he seized a lance from one of his pages and 
charged furiously upon the apostate; but Tendoros met 
him in mid career, and the lance of the prince was 
shivered upon his shield. Ataulpho then grasped his 
mace, which hung at his saddlebow, and a doubtful 
fight ensued. Tenderos was powerful of frame and 
superior in the use of his weapons, but the curse of 
treason seemed to paralyze his arm. He wounded 
Ataulpho slightly between the greaves of his armor, but 
the prince dealt a blow with his mace that crushed 
through helm and skull and reached the brains; and 
Tenderos fell dead to earth, his armor rattling as he fell. 

At the same moment a javelin hurled by an Arab 
transpierced the horse of Ataulpho, which sank beneath 
him. The prince seized the reins of the steed of Ten- 
deros, but the faithful animal, as though he knew him 
to be the foe of his late lord, reared and plunged and 
refused to let him mount. The prince, however, used 
him as a shield to ward off the press ^f foes, while with 
his sword he defended himself against those in front of 
him. Taric ben Zeyad arrived at the serene of conflict, 
and paused for a moment in admiration oi the surpass- 
ing prowess of the prince; recollectidg, however, that 
his fall would be a deathblow to bi& army, he spurred 
upon him, and wounded him severi^ly with his scimitar. 
Before he could repeat his blow Theodomir led up a 
body of Christian cavaliers to the rescue, and Taric was 
parted from his prey by the tumult of the fight. The 

Erince sank to the earth, covered with wounds and ex- 
austed by the loss of blood. A faithful page drew him 
from under the hoofa of the horses, and, aided by a 



LEQENDB OP THE CONQUEBT OP SPAIN. g?l 

Teteran soldier^ an ancient vassal of Ataulpho, conveyed 
him to a short distance from the scene of battle, by the 
Ride of a small stream that gushed out from among 
rocks. They stanched the blood that flowed from his 
wounds and washed the dust from his face, and laid 
him beside the fountain. The page sat at his head and 
supported it on his knees, and the veteran stood at his 
feet, with his brow bent and his eyes full of sorrow. 
The prince gradually revived, and opened his eyes. 
*'How fares the battle?'^ said he. *'The struggle is 
hard,'* replied the soldier, ^'but the day may yet be 
ours.^' 

The prince felt that the hour of his death was at hand, 
and ordered that they should aid him to rise upon his 
knees. They supported him between them, and he 
prayed fervently for a short time, when, finding his 
strength declining, he beckoned the veteran to sit down 
beside him on the rock. Continuing to kneel, he con- 
fessed himself to that ancient soldier, having no priest 
or friar to perform that office in this hour of extremity. 
When he had so done he sank again upon the earth and 
pressed it with his lips, as if he would take a fond fare- 
well of his beloved country. The page would then have 
raised his head, but found that his lord had yielded up 
the ghost. 

A number of AraV> <varriors who came to the fountain 
to slake their thirst cut off the head of the prince and 
bore it in triumph to Taric, crying, ' 'Behold the head of 
the Christian leader.'^ Taric immediately ordered that 
the head should be put upon the end of a lance, to- 
gether with the surcoat of the prince, and borne about 
the field of battle, with the sound of trumpets, atabels, 
and cymbals. 

When the Christians beheld the surcoat, and knew the 
features of the prince, they were struck with horror, and 
heart and hand failed them. Theodomir endeavored in 
vain to rally them; they threw by their weapons and 
fled; and they continued to fly, and the enemy to pursue 
and slay them, until the darkness of the night. The 
Moslems then returned and plundered the Ohristiiin 
Damp» where they f ouiui dJbundant snoiL 



THE ALBAMBRA. 



CHAPTEE XIII. 



1 



TERROR OF THE COUKTRY— RODERICK ROUSES HIMSELf 

TO AR3IS. 

The scattered fugitives of the Christian army spread 
terror throughout the land. The inhabitants of the 
towns and villages gathered around them as they applied 
at their gates for f ood^ or laid themselves down faint and 
wounded beside the public fountains. When they re- 
lated the tale of their defeat old men shook their heads 
and groaned, and the women attered cries and lamenta- 
tions. So strange and unlooked-for a, calamity filled 
them with consternation and despair; for it was long 
since the alarm of war had sounded in their land, ai.ci 
this was a warfare that carried chains and slavery, and ail 
kinds of horrors in its train. 

Don Eoderick was seated witn nis beauteous: queen, 
Exilona, in the royal palace which crowned the rocky 
summit of Toledo, when the bearer of ill-tidings came 
galloping over the bridge of the Tagus. *^What tidings 
from the army?^^ demanded the king, as the panting 
messenger was brought into his presence. ^'Tidings of 
great woe,^^ exclaimed the soldier. "The prince has 
fallen in battle. I saw his head and surcoat upon a 
Moorish lanoe, and the army was overthrown and fled.'* 

At hearing these words Eoderick covered his face with 
his hands, and for some time sat in silence; and all his 
courtiers stood mute and aghast, and no one dared to 
speak a word. In that awful space of time passed before 
his thoughts all his errors and his crimes, and all the 
evils that had been predicted in the necromantic towor. 
His mind was filled with horror and confusion, for tho 
hour of his destruction seemed at hand; but he subdued 
his agitation by his strong and haughty spirit; and when 
he uncovered his face no one could read on his brow the 
trouble and agony of his heart. Still every hour brought 
fresh tidings of disaster. Messsenger after messenger 
came spurring into the city, distracting it with new 
alarms. The infidels, they said, were strengthening 
themselves in the land: host after host were pouring in 
from Africa: the seaboard of Andalusia glittered with 
spears and scimitars. Bands ot turbaned horsemen had 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 273 

overrun the plains of Sidonia, even to the banks of the 
Guadiana. Fields were laid waste, towns and cities 
plundered, the inhabitants carried into captivity, and 
the whole country lay in smoking desolation, 

Roderick heard all these tidings with an undaunted 
aspect, nor did he ever again betray sign of consterna- 
tion; but the anxiety of his soul was evident in his war- 
like preparations. He issued orders that every noble and 
prelate of his kingdom should put himself at the head of 
his retainers and take the field, and that every man capa- 
ble of bearing arms should hasten to his standard, bring- 
ing whatever horse and mule and weapon he possessed; 
and he appointed the plain of Cordova for the place 
where the army was to assemble. Throwing by, then, 
all the trappings of his late slothful and voluptuous life, 
and arming himself for warlike action, he departed from 
Toledo at the head of his guard, composed of the flower 
of the youthful nobility. His queen, Exilona, accom- 
panied him, for she craved permission to remain in ono 
of the cities of Andalusia, that she might be near her 
lord in this time of peril. 

Among the first who appeared to hail the arrival of 
the king at Cordova was the Bishop Oppas, the secret 
partisan of the traitor Julian. He brought with him his 
two nephews, Evan and Siseburto, the sons of the late 
King Witiza, and a great host of vassals and retainers, 
all well armed and appointed; for they had been fur- 
nished by Count Julian with a part of the arms sent by 
the king to Africa. The bishop was smooth of tongue 
and profound in his hypocrisy; his pretended zeal and 
devotion, and the horror with which he spoke of the 
treachery of his kinsman, imposed upon the credulous 
spirit of the king, and he was readily admitted into his 
most secret councils. 

The alarm of the infidel invasion had spread through- 
out the land, and roused the Gothic valor of the inhabit- 
ants. On receiving the orders of Roderick, every town 
and hamlet, every mountain and valley, had sent forth 
its fighting men, and the whole country was on the 
march toward Andalusia. In a little while there were 
gathered together, on the plain of Cordova, near fifty 
thousand horsemen, and a countless host of foot-soldieri^ 
The Gothic nobles appeared in burnished armor, curiously 



274 THK ALHAMBiCA. 

inlaid and adorned, with chains and jewels of gold, and 
ornaments of precious stones, and silken scarfs, and 
surcoats of brocade, or velvet richly embroidered; be- 
traying the luxury and ostentation into which they had 
declined from the iron hardihood of their warlike sires. 
As to the common people, some had lances and shields and 
swords and crossbows, but the greater part were un- 
armed, or provided merely^ with slings, and clubs studded 
with nails, and with the iron implements of husbandry^ 
and many had made shields for themselves from the 
doors and windows of their habitations. They were a 
prodigious host, and appeared, say the Arabian chroni- 
clers, like an agitated sea; but, though brave in spirit, 
they possessed no knowledge of warlike art, and were in- 
effectual through lack of arms and discipline. 

Several of the most ancient and experienced cavaliers^ 
beholding the state of the army, advised Don Eoderick 
to await the arrival of more regular troops, which were 
stationed in Iberia, Cantabria, and Gallia Gothica; but 
this counsel was strenuously opposed by the Bishop 
Oppas, who urged the king to march immediately against 
the infidels. '^As yet,^^ said he, ''their number is but 
limited, but every day new hosts arrive, like flocks of 
locusts, from Africa. They will augment faster than 
we; they are living, too, at our expense, and, while we 
pause, both armies are consuming the substance of the 
land.^* 

King Roderick listened to the crafty counsel of the 
bishop, and determined to advance without delay. He 
mounted his war horse, Orelia, and rode among his 
troops assembled on that spacious plain, and wherever 
he appeared he was received with acclamations; for noth- 
ing so arouses the spirit of the soldier as to behold his 
j, sovereign in armSo He addressed them in words calcu- 
I lated to touch their hearts, and animate their courage. 
i\ ^'The Saracens,^' said he, ''are ravaging our land, and 
their object is our conquest. Should they prevail, your 
very existence as a nation is at an end. They will over- 
turn your altars; trample on the cross; lay waste your 
cities; carry off your wives and daughters, and doom 
yourselves and sons to nard and cruel slavery. No safety 
remains for you but in the prowess of your arms. For 
my own part, as I am your king, so will I be your leader 



LE0END8 OF TEE 'CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 275 

•nd will be the foremost to encounter every toil and 
danger/' 

The soldiery answered their monarch with loud accla- 
mations, and solemnly pledged themselves to fight to the 
last ffasp in defense of their country and their faith. 
The king then arranged the order of their march: all 
those who were armed with cuirasses and coats of mail 
were placed in the front and rear; the center of the army 
was composed of a promiscuous throng, without body 
armor, and but scantily provided with weapons. 

When they were about to march the king called to 
him a noble cavalier named Kamiro, and delivering him 
the royal standard, charged him to guard it well for the 
honor of Spain; scarcely, however, had the good knight 
received it in his hand, when he fell dead from his horse, 
and the staff of the standard was broken in twain. Many 
ancient courtiers who were present looked upon this as 
an evil omen, and counseled the king not to set forward 
on his march that day; but, disregarding all auguries 
and portents, he ordered the royal banner to be put upon 
a lance and gave it in charge of another standard bearer; 
*hen, commanding the trumpets to be sounded, he de- 
parted at the head of his host to seek the enemy. 

The field where this great army assembled was called, 
trom the solemn pledge given by the nobles and the 
aoldiery. El Campo de la Verdad; or, the Field of Truth; 
% name, says the sage chronicler Abulcasim, which it 
bears even to the present day.* 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MARCH OP THE GOTHIC ARMY— ENCAMPMENT OK THl 
BANKS OF THE GCJADALETE — MYSTERIOUS PREDIC- 
TIONS OF A PALMER— CONDUCT OF PELISTES THERE- 
UPON. 

The hopes of Andalusia revived as this mighty host 
stretched in lengthening lines along its fertile plains; 
from morn until night it continued to pour along, with 

sound of drum and trumpet; it was led on by the proud* 

--' - ■■' " " ' ■ >- .11. ■ ii> 

» La Pprdida de Espana, cap. 9. Bleda, L. 1^. e S» 



276 THE ALHAMBRA. 

est nobles and bravest cavaliers in the land, and, had it 
possessed arms and discipline, might have undertaken 
the conquest of the world. 

After a few days' march Don Eoderick arrived in 
sight of the Moslem army, encamped on the banks of 
the Guadalete,* where that beautiful stream winds 
through the fertile land of Xeres. The infidel host was 
far inferior in number to the Christians, but then it was 
composed of hardy and dexterous troops, seasoned to war 
and admirably armed. The camp shone gloriously in 
the setting sun, and resounded with the clash of cymbal, 
the note of the trumpet, and the neighing of fiery Ara- 
bian steeds. There were swarthy trt)ops from every 
nation of the African coast, together with legions from 
Syria and Egypt, while the light Bedouins were career- 
ing about the adjacent plain. What grieved and in- 
censed the spirits of the Christian warriors, however, 
was to behold, a little apart from the Moslem host, an 
encampment of Spanish cavaliers, with the banner of 
Count Julian waving above their tents. They were 
ten thousand in number, valiant and hardy men, the 
most experienced of Spanish soldiery, most of them having 
served in the African wars; they were well armed and 
appointed also, with the weapons of which the count had 
beguiled his sovereign; and it was a grievous sight to be- 
hold such good soldiers arrayed against their country and 
their faith. 

The Christians pitched their tents about the hour of 
vespers, at a short league distant from the enemy, and 
remained gazing with anxiety and awe upon this barbaric 
host that had caused such terror and desolation in the 
land; for the first sight of a hostile encampment in a 
country disused to war is terrible to a newly enlisted 
soldier. A marvelous occurrence is recorded by the 
Arabian chroniclers as having taken place in the Chris- 
tian camp; but discreet Spanish writers relate it with 
much modification, and consider it a stratagem of the 
wily Bishop Oppas to sound the loyalty of the Christian 
cavaliers. 

As several leaders of the army were seated with the 

* This name was given to it subsequently by the Arabs It sig- 
nifies the River of Death Vide Pedraza, Hist. Granad. p^ 3, e. 1. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQVEST OF SPAIK o^'? 

bishop in his tent, conversing on the dubious fortunes of 
the approaching contest, an ancient pilgrim apppeared 
at the extrance. He was bowed down with years, his 
snowy beard descended to his girdle, and he supported 
his tottering steps with a palmer's staff. The cavaliers 
rose and received him with great reverence as he ad- 
vanced within the tent. Holding up his withered hand, 
''Woe, woe to Spain!" exclaimed he, ''for the vial of the 
wrath of Heaven is about to be poured out. Listen, 
warriors, and take warning. Four months since, having 
performed my pilgrimage to the sepulcher of our Lord 
in Palestine, I was on my return toward my native land. 
Wearied and way-worn, I lay down one night to sleep 
beneath a palm-tree by the side of a fountain, when I 
was awakened by a voice saying unto me, in soft accents, 
'Son of sorrow, why sleepest thou?' I opened my eyes 
and beheld one of fair and beauteous countenance, in 
shining apparel, and with glorious wings, standing by 
the fountain; and I said, 'Who art thou, who callest 
upon me in this deep hour of the night?' 

" 'Fear not,' replied the stranger; 'I am an angel from 
heaven, sent to reveal unto thee the fate of thy country. 
Behold, the sins of Eoderick have come up before God, 
and His anger is kindled against him, and He has given 
him up to be invaded and destroyed. Hasten then to 
Spain, and seek the camp of thy countrymen. Warn 
them that such only shall be saved as shall abandon 
Eoderick; but those who adhere to him shall share his 
punishment, and shall fall under the sword of the in- 
vader.' " 

The pilgrim ceased, and passed forth from the tent; 
certain of the cavaliers followed him to detain him, that 
they might converse further with him about these mat- 
ters, but he was nowhere to be found. The sentine] 
before the tent said, "I saw no one come forth, but it 
was as if a blast of wind passed by me, and there was a 
rustling as of dry leaves." 

The cavaliers remained looking upon each other with 
astonishment. The Bishop Oppas sat with his eyes fixed 
upon the ground, and shadowed by his overhanging 
brow. At length, breaking silence, in a low and falter- 
ing voice: "Doubtless," said he, "this message is from 
God; and since He has taken compassion upon us and 



p.'i^ THE ALHAMBRA, 

given us notice of His impending judgment, it behooves 
us to hold grave council, and determine how best we 
may accomplish His will and avert His displeasure." 

The chiefs still remained silent as men confounded. 
Among them was a veteran noble named Pelistes. He 
had distinguished himself in the African wars, fighting 
side by side with Count Julian; but the latter had never 
dared to tamper with his faith, for he knew his stern 
integrity. Pelistes had brought with him to the camp 
his only son, who had never drawn a sword except in 
tourney. When the young man saw that the veterans 
held their peace the blood mantled in his cheek, and, 
overcoming his modesty, he broke forth with a generous 
warmth: ''I know not, cavaliers,'^ said he, 'Svhat is 
passing in your minds, but I believe this pilgrim to be 
an envoy from the devil; for none else could have given 
such dastard and perfidious counsel. For my own part, 
I stand ready to defend my king, my country, and my 
faith; I know no higher duty than this; and if God 
thinks fit to strike me dead in the performance of it. 
His sovereign will be done!'* 

When the young man had risen to speak his father 
had fixed his eyes upon him with a grave and stern 
demeanor, leaning upon a two-handed sword. As soon 
as the youth had finished Pelistes embraced him with a 
father's fondness. ^'Thou hast spoken well, my son,'' 
said he; "if I held my peace at the counsel of this losel 
pilgrim, it was but to hear thy opinion, and to learn 
whether thou wert worthy of thy lineage and of the 
training I had given thee. Hadst thou counseled other- 
wise than thou hast done, hadst thou shown thyself 
craven and disloyal, so help me God, I would have struck 
off thy head with this weapon which I hold in my hand. 
But thou hast counseled like a loyal and a Christian 
knight, and I thank God for having given me a son 
worthy to perpetuate the honors of my line. As to this 
pilgrim, be he saint or be he devil, I care not; this much 
I promise, that if I am to die in defense of my country 
and my king, my life shall be a costly purchase to the 
foe. Let each man make the same resolve, and I trust 
we shall yet prove the pilgrim a lying prophet." The 
words of Pelistes roused the spirits of many of the cava- 
liers; others, however, remained full of anxious forebod- 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAm. 279 

ing, and when this fearful prophecy was rumored about 
the camp, as it presently was by the emissaries of the 
bishop, it spread awe and dismay among the soldiery. 



CHAPTER XV. 

SKIRMISHING OF THE AEMIES— PELISTES AKD HIS SOK— 
PELISTES AND THE BISHOP. 

On the following day the two armies remained regard- 
ing each other with wary but menacing aspect. About 
noontide King Eoderick sent forth a chosen force of five 
hundred horse and two hundred foot, the best armed of 
his host, to skirmish with the enemy, that, by gaining 
some partial advantage, they might raise the spirits of 
the army. They were led on by Theodomir, the same 
Gothic noble who had signalized himself by first oppos- 
ing the invasion of the Moslems. 

The Christian squadrons paraded with flying pennons 
in the valley which lay between the armies. The Arabs 
were not slow in answering their defiance. A large body 
of horsemen sallied forth to the encounter, together with 
three hundred of the followers of Count Julian. There 
was hot skirmishing about the field and on the banks of 
the river; many gallant feats were displayed on either 
side, and many valiant warriors were slain. As the night 
closed in the trumpets from either camp summoned the 
troops to retire from the combat. In this day^s action 
the Christians suffered greatly in the loss of their dis- 
tinguished cavaliers; for it is the noblest spirits who 
venture most and lay themselves open to danger; and 
the Moslem soldiers had instructions to single out the 
leaders of the adverse host. All this is said to have been 
devised by the perfidious Bishop Oppas, who had secret 
communications with the enemy, while he influenced the 
councils of the king; and Avho trusted that by this 
skirmishing warfare the flower of the Christian troops 
would be cut ofE and the rest disheartened. 

On the following morning a larger force was ordered 
out to skirmish, and such of the soldiery as were un- 
armed were commanded to stand ready to seize the 
horses and strip off the armor of the killed and wounded 



280 TEE ALHAMBRA. 

Among the most illustrious of the warriors who fought 
that day was Pelistes, the Gothic noble who had so 
sternly checked the tongue of the Bishop Oppas. He 
led to the field a large body of his own vassals and re- 
tainers, and of cavaliers trained up in his house, who 
had followed him to the wars in Africa, and who looked 
up to him more as a father than a chieftain. Beside him 
was his only son, who now for the first time was fleshing 
his sword in battle. The conflict that day was more gen- 
eral and bloody than the day preceding; the slaughter of 
the Christian warriors was immense, from their lack of de- 
fensive armor; and as nothing could prevent the flower 
of the Gothic chivalry from spurring to the combat, the 
field was strewed with the bodies of the youthful nobles. 
None suffered more, however, than the warriors of 
Pelistes. Their leader himself was bold and hardy, and 
prone to expose himself to danger; but years and experi- 
ence had moderated his early fire; his son, however, was 
eager to distinguish himself in this, his first essay, and 
rushed with impetuous ardor into the hottest of the 
battle. In vain his father called to caution him; he was 
ever in the advance, and seemed unconscious of the perils 
that surrounded him. The cavaliers and vassals of his 
father followed him with devoted zeal, and many of 
them paid for their loyalty with their lives. When the 
trumpets sounded in the evening for retreat the troops 
of Pelistes were the last to reach the camp. They came 
slowly and mournfully, and much decreased in number. 
Their veteran commander was seated on his war-horse, 
but the blood trickled from the greaves of his armor. 
His valiant son was borne on the shields of his vassals; 
when they laid him on the earth near to where the king 
was standing, they found that the heroic youth had ex- 
pired of his wounds. The cavaliers surrounded the body 
and gave utterance to their grief, but the father re- 
strained his agony and looked on with the stern resigna- 
tion of a soldier. 

Don Roderick surveyed the field of battle with a rue- 
ful eye, for it was covered with the mangled bodies of 
his most illustrious warriors; he saw, too, with anxiety 
tJiat the common people, unused to war and unsustained 
by discipline, were harassed by incessant toils and dan* 
gers; aud were cooling in their zeal and couragOo 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 281 

The crafty Bishop Oppas marked the internal trouble 
of the king, and thought a favorable moment had arrived 
to sway him to his purpose. He called to his mind the 
various portents and prophecies which had forerun their 
present danger. ^'Let not my lord the king/^ said he, 
''make light of these mysterious revelations, which ap- 
pear to be so disastrously fulfilling. The hand of Heaven 
appears to be against us. Destruction is impending over 
our heads. Our troops are rude and unskillful, but 
slightly armed, and much cast down in spirit. Better is 
it that we should make a treaty with the enemy, and, by 
granting part of his demands, prevent the utter ruin of 
our country. If such counsel be acceptable to my lord 
the king, I stand ready to depart upon an embassy to 
the Moslem camp/^ 

Upon hearing these words, Pelistes, who had stood in 
nK)urnful silence, regarding the dead body of his son, 
burst forth with honest indignation. ''By this good 
sword, '^ said he, "the man who yields such dastard 
counsel deserves death from the hand of his countryman 
rather than from the foe; and, were it not for the pres- 
ence of the king, may I forfeit salvation if I would not 
strike him dead upon the spot.^^ 

The bishop turned an eye of venom upon Pelistes. 
"My lord," said he, "I, too, bear a weapon, and know 
bow to wield it. Were the king not present, you would 
not dare to menace, nor should you advance one step 
without my hastening to meet you." 

The king interposed between the jarring nobles, and 
rebuked the impetuosity of Pelistes, but at the same time 
rejected the counsel of the bishop. "The event of this 
conflict," said he, "is in the hand of God; but never 
shall my sword return to its scabbard while an infidel 
invader remains within the land." 

He then held a council with his captains, and it was de- 
termined to offer the enemy general battle on the follow- 
ing day. A herald was dispatched defying Taric ben 
Zeyad to the contest, and the defiance was gladly 
accepted by the Moslem chieftain.* Don Eoderick then 
formed the plan of action and assigned to each com- 
mander his several station, after which he dismissed his 

*Bleda, Cronica. 



282 THE ALHAMBRA. 

officers, and each one sought his tent, to prepare bj dili- 
gence or repose for the next day's eventful contest. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

TRAITOROUS MESSAGE OF COUNT JULIAKa 

Taric ben Zeyad had been surprised by the valor of 
the Christian cavaliers in the recent battles, and at the 
number and apparent devotion of the troops which ac- 
companied the king to the field. The confident defiance 
of Don Roderick increased his surprise. When the 
herald had retired he turned an eye of suspicion on 
Count Julian. ''Thou hast represented thy country- 
men,'' said he, ''as sunk in efEeminacy and lost to all 
generous impulse; yet I find them fighting with the 
courage and the strength of lions. Thou hast repre- 
sented thy king as detested by his subjects and sur- 
rounded by secret treason; but 1 behold his tents whiten- 
ing the hills and dales, while thousands are hourly flock- 
ing to his standard. Woe unto thee if thou hast dealt 
deceitfully with us, or betrayed us with guileful words.'' 

Don Julian retired to his tent in great trouble of mind, 
and fear came upon him that the Bishop Oppas might 
play him false; for it is the lot of traitors ever to distrust 
each other. He called to him the same page who had 
brought him the letter from Florinda, revealing the story 
of her dishonor. 

"Thou knowest, my trusty page," said he, "that I 
have reared thee in my household, and cherished thee 
above all thy companions. If thou hast loyalty and 
affection for thy lord, now is the time to serve him. 
Hie thee to the Christian camp, and find thy way to the 
tent of the Bishop Oppas. If any one ask thee who 
thou art, tell them thou are of the household of the 
bishop, and bearer of missives from Cordova. When 
thou art admitted to the presence of the bishop, show 
him this ring, and he will commune with thee in secret. 
Then tell him Count Julian greets him as a brother, and 
demands how the wrongs of his daughter Florinda are to 
be redressed. Mark well his reply, and bring it word 
for word. Have thy lips closed, but thine eyes and eari 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 28S 

open; and observe everything of note in the camp of 
the king. So speed thee on thy errand— away, away!'* 

The page hastened to saddle a Barbary steed, fleet as 
the wind, and of a jet-black color, so as not to be easily 
discernible in the night. He girded on a sword and a 
dagger, slung an Arab bow with a quiver of arrows at 
his side, and buckler at his shoulder. Issuing out of 
the camp he sought the banks of the Guadalete, and pro- 
ceeded silently along its stream, which reflected the dis- 
tant fires of the Christian camp. As he passed by the 
place which had been the scene of the recent conflict 
he heard from time to time the groan of some expiring 
warrior who had crawled among the reeds on the margin 
of the river; and sometimes his steed stepped cautiously 
over the mangled bodies of the slain. The young page 
was unused to the sights of war, and his heart beat quick 
within him. He was hailed by the sentinels as he ap- 
proached the Christian camp, and, on giving the reply 
taught him by Count Julian, was conducted to the tent 
of the Bishop Oppas. 

The bishop had not yet retired to his couch. When 
he beheld the ring of Count Julian and heard the words 
of his message, he saw that the page was one in whom he 
might confide. ^'Hasten back to thy lord,** said he, 
''and tell him to have faith in me and all shall go well. 
As yet I have kept my troops out of the combat. They 
are all fresh, well armed, and well appointed. The king 
has confided to myself, aided by the Princes Evan and 
Siseburto, the command of a wing of the army. To- 
morrow, at the hour of noon, when both armies are in 
the heat of action, we will pass over with our forces to 
the Moslems. But I claim the compact made with Taric 
ben Zeyad, that my nephews be placed in dominion over 
Spain, and tributary only to the Caliph of Damascus.** 
With this traitorous message the page departed. He 
led his black steed by the bridle, to present less mark for 
observation, as he went stumbling along near the ex- 
piring fires of the camp. On passing the last outpost, 
where the guards were half-slumbering on their arms, 
he was overheard and summoned, but leaped lightly into 
the saddle and put spurs to his steed. An arrow whistled 
by his ear, and two more stuck in the target which he 
b^^d thrown upon his back. The clatter of swift hoofs 



284 THE ALBAMBRA, 

echoed behind him^ but he had learned of the Arabs i(\ 
tight and fly. Plucking a shaft from his quiver, and 
turning and rising in his stirrups as his courser galloped 
at full speed, he drew the arrow to the head and launched 
it at his pursuer. The twang of the bowstring was fol- 
lowed by the crash of armor and a deep groan, as the 
horseman tumbled to the earth. The page pursued his 
course without further molestation, and arrived at the 
Moslem camp before the break of day. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAST DAY OF THE BATTLE. 



lions I 



A LIGHT had burned throughout the night in the 
of the king, and anxious thoughts and dismal visions 
troubled his repose. If he fell into a slumber he beheld 
in his dreams the shadowy phantoms of the necromantic 
tower, or the injured Florinda, pale and disheveled, im- 
precating the vengeance of Heaven upon his head. In 
the mid-watches of the night, when all was silent except 
the footsteps of the sentinel pacing before his tent, 
the king rose from his couch, and walking forth looked 
thoughtfully upon the martial scene before him. The 
pale crescent of the moon hung over the Moorish camp 
and dimly lighted up the windings of the Guadalete. 
The heart of the king was heavy and oppressed; but he 
felt only for himself, says Antonio Agapida; he thought 
nothing of the perils impending over the thousands of 
devoted subjects in the camp below him; sleeping, as it 
were, on the margin of their graves. The faint clatter 
of distant hoofs, as if in rapid flight, reached the mon- 
arch's ear, but the horsemen were not to be descried. 
At that very hour, and along the shadowy banks of that 
river, here and there gleaming with the scanty moon- 
light, passed the fugitive messenger of Count Julian, 
with the plan of the next day's treason. 

The day had not yet dawned when the sleepless and 
impatient monarch summoned his attendants and arrayed 
himself for the field. He then sent for the venerable 
Bishop Urbino, who had accompanied him to the 
camp, and laying aside his regal crown, he knelt with 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 285 

head uncovered, and confessed his sins before the holy 
man. After this a solemn mass was performed in the 
royal tent, and the eucharist administered to the mon- 
arch. When these ceremonies were concluded, he be- 
sought the archbishop to depart forthwith for Cordova, 
there to await the issue of the battle, and to be ready to 
bring forward reenforcements and supplies. The arch- 
bishop saddled his mule and departed just as the faint 
blush of morning began to kindle in the east. Already 
the camp resounded with the thrilling call of the trum- 
pet, the clank of armor, and the tramp and neigh of 
steeds. As the archbishop passed through the camp he 
looked with a compassionate heart on this vast multi- 
tude, of whom so many were soon to perish. The 
warriors pressed to kiss his hand, and many a cavalier 
full of youth and fire received his benediction, who was 
to lie stiff and cold before the evening. 

When the troops were marshaled for the field Don 
Eoderick prepared to sally forth in the state and pomp 
with which the Gothic kings were wont to go to battle. 
He was arrayed in robes of gold brocade; his sandals 
were embroidered with pearls and diamonds; he had a 
scepter in his hand, and he wore a regal crown resplen- 
dent with inestimable jewels. Thus gorgeously ap- 
pareled, he ascended a lofty chariot of ivory, the axle- 
trees of which were of silver, and the wheels and pole 
covered with plates of burnished gold. Above his head 
was a canopy of cloth of gold embossed with armorial 
devices, and studded with precious stones.* This 
sumptuous chariot was drawn by milk-white horses, with 
caparisons of crimson velvet, embroidered with pearls. 
A thousand youthful cavaliers surrounded the car; all 
of the noblest blood and bravest spirit; all knighted by 
the king's own hand, and sworn to defend him to the 
last. 

When Roderick issued forth in this resplendent state, 
says an Arabian writer, surrounded by his guards in 
gilded armor and waving plumes and scarfs and surcoats 
of a thousand dyes, it was as if the sun were emerging 
in the dazzling chariot of the day fx'om amid the glorious 
clouds of morning. 

^Bfttrftfta. Cbrgu. ^n. Chris, 7li 



286 TEE aLHAMBRA. 

As the royal car rolled along in front of the squadrons, 
the soldiers shouted with admiration. Don Eoderiek 
waved his scepter and addressed them from his lofty 
throne, reminding them of the horror and desolation 
which had already been spread through the land by the 
invaders. He called upon them to summon up the 
ancient valor of their race and avenge the blood of their 
brethren. ^^One day of glorious fighting/' said he, '^and 
this infidel horde will be driven into the sea or will 
perish beneath your swords. Forward bravely to the 
fight; your families are behind you praying for your suc- 
cess; the invaders of your country are before you; God 
is above to bless His holy cause, and your king leads you 
to the field.'' The army shouted with one accord, ^^For- 
ward to the foe, and death be his portion who shuns the 
encounter!" 

The rising sun began to shine along the glistening 
waters of the Guadalete as the Moorish army, squadron 
after squadron, came sweeping down a gentle declivity 
to the sound of martial music. Their turbans and robes, 
of various dyes and fashions, gave a splendid appearance 
to their host; as they marched, a cloud of dust arose 
and partly hid them from the sight, but still there would 
break forth fiashesof steel and gleams of burnished gold, 
like rays of vivid lightning; while the sound of drum 
and trumpet, and the clash of Moorish cymbal, were as 
the warlike thunder within that stormy cloud of battle. 

As the armies drew near each other the sun disap- 
peared among gathering clouds, and the gloom of the 
day was increased by the columns of dust which rose 
from either host. At length the trumpets sounded for 
the encounter. The battle commenced with showers of 
arrows, stones, and javelins. The Christian foot-soldiers 
fought to disadvantage, the greater part being destitute 
of helm or buckler. A battalion of light Arabian horse- 
men, led by a Greek renegade named Maguel el Rumi, 
careered in front of the Christian line, launching their 
darts, and then wheeling off beyond the reach of the 
missiles hurled after them. Theodomir now brought up 
his seasoned troops into the action, seconded by the vet- 
eran Pelistes, and in a little while the battle became 
furious and promiscuous. It was glorious to behold the 
old Gothic valor shining forth in this hour of fearful 



LEGENDS OF TEE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 287 

trial. Wherever the Moslems fell, the Christians rushed 
forward, seized upon their horses, and stripped them of 
their armor and their weapons. They fought desperately 
and successfully, for they fought for their country and 
their faith. The battle raged for several hours; the field 
was strewn with slain, and the Moors, overcome by the 
multitude and fury of their foes, began to falter. 

When Taric beheld his troops retreating before the 
enemy he threw himself before them, and, rising in his 
stirrups, '*0 Moslems! conquerors of Africa!'^ cried he, 
* 'whither would you fly? The sea is behind you, the 
enemy before; you have no hope but in your valor and 
the help of God. Do as I do and the day is ours!'* 

With these words he put spurs to his horse and sprang 
among the enemy, striking to right and left, cutting 
down and destroying, while his steed, fierce as himself, 
trampled upon the foot-soldiers, and tore them with his 
teeth. At this moment a mighty shout arose in various 
parts of the field; the noontide hour had arrived. The 
Bishop Oppas with the two princes, who had hitherto 
kept their bands out of the fight, suddenly went over to 
the enemy, and turned their weapons upon their aston- 
ished countrymen. From that moment the fortune of 
the day was changed, and the field of battle became a 
scene of wild confusion and bloody massacre. The 
Christians knew not whom to contend with, or whom 
to trust. It seemed as if madness had seized upon their 
friends and kinsmen, and that their worst enemies were 
among themselves. 

The courage of Don Koderick rose with his danger. 
Throwing off the cumbrous robes of royalty and descend- 
ing from his car, he sprang upon his steed Orelia, 
grasped his lance and buckler, and endeavored to rally 
his retreating troops. He was surrounded and assailed 
by a multitude of his own traitorous subjects, but de- 
fended himself with wondrous prowess. The enemy 
thickened around him; his loyal band of cavaliers were 
slain, bravely fighting in his defense; the last that was 
seen of the king was in the midst of the enemy, dealing 
death at every blow. 

A complete panic fell upon the Christians; they threw 
away their arms and fled in all directions. They were 
pursued with dreadful slaughter, until the darkness of 



288 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the Eight Tendered it impossible to distinguish friecd 
from foe. Taric then called oflf his troops from the pur- 
suit and took possession of the royal camp; and the 
couch which had been pressed so uneasily on the preced- 
ing night by Don Eodsrick, now yielded sound repose 
to his conqueror^'*' 



CHAPTER XVIIL 

THE FIELD OF BATTLE AFTER THE DEFEAT— THE FATE 
OF RODERICK. 

On the morning after the battle the Arab leader, 
Taric ben Zeyad, rode over the bloody field of the 
Guadalete, strewed with the ruins of those splendid 
armies which had so lately passed like glorious pageants 
along the river banks. There Moor and Christian, 
horseman and horse, lay gashed with hideous wounds; 
and the river, still red with blood, was filled with the 
bodies of the slain. The gaunt Arab was as a wolf roam- 
ing through the fold he had laid waste. On every side 
his eye reveled on the ruin of the country, on the wrecks 
of haughty Spain. There lay the flower of her youthful 
chivalry, mangled and destroyed, and the strength of 
her yeomanry prostrated in the dust. The Gothic noble 
lay confounded with his vassals; the peasant with the 
prince; all ranks and dignities were mingled in one 
bloody massacre. 

When Taric had surveyed the field he caused the 
spoils of the dead and the plunder of the camp to be 
brought before him. The booty was immense. There 
were massy chains, and rare jewels of gold; pearls and 
precious stones; rich silks and brocades, and all other 
luxurious decorations in which the Gothic nobles had 
indulged in the latter times of their degeneracy. A vast 
amount of treasure was likewise found, which had been 
brought by Roderick for the expenses of the war. 
^ Taric then ordered that the bodies of the Moslem war* 
riors should be interred; as for those of the Christians, 
they were gathered in heaps, and vast pyres of wood 

* This battle is called indiscriminately by historians the battle of 
Guadalete, or of Xeres, frotn the neighborhood of that city. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN. 289 

were formed, on which they were consumed. The flames 
of these pyres rose high in the air, and were seen afar off 
in the night; and when the Christians beheld them from 
the neighboring hills they beat their breasts and tore 
their hair, and lamented over them as over the funeral 
fires of their country. The carnage of that battle in- 
fected the air for two whole months, and bones were 
seen lying in heaps upon the field for more than forty 
years; nay, when ages had passed and gone, the husband- 
man, turning up the soil, would still find fragments of 
Gothic cuirasses and helms, and Moorish scimitars, the 
relics of that dreadful fight. 

For three days the Arabian horsemen pursued the fly- 
ing Christians, hunting them over the face of the coun- 
try, so that but a scanty number of that mighty host 
escaped to tell the tale of their disaster. 

Taric ben Zeyad considered his victory incomplete so 
long as the Gothic monarch survived; he proclaimed 
great rewards, therefore, to whomsoever should bring 
Koderick to him, dead or alive. A diligent search was 
accordingly made in every direction, but for a long time 
in vain; at length a soldier brougnt to Taric the head of 
a Christian warrior, on which was a cap decorated witn 
feathers and precious stones. The Arab leader received 
it as the head of the unfortunate Roderick, and sent it, 
as a trophy of his victory, to Muza ben Nosier, who, in 
like manner, transmitted it to the caliph at Damascus. 
The Spanish historians, however, have always denied its 
identity. 

A mystery has ever hung, and ever must continue to 
hang over the fate of King Roderick, in that dark and 
doleful day of Spain. Whether he went down amid 
the storm of battle and atoned for his sins and errors by 
a patriot grave, or whether he survived to repent of them 
in hermit exile, must remain matter of conjecture and 
dispute. The learned Archbishop Rodrigo, who has re- 
corded the events of this disastrous field, aflBrms that 
Roderick fell beneath the vengeful blade of the traitor 
Julian, and t?ius expiated with his blood his crime 
against the hapless Florinda; but the archbishop stands 
alone in his record of the fact. It seems generally ad- 
mitted that Orelia, the favorite war-horse, was found 
entangled in a marsh on the borders of the Guadalete, 



290 ^^^ ALHAMBRA, 



I 



with the sandais and mantle and^ royal insignia of the 
king lying close by him. The river at this place ran 
broad and deep, and was incumbered with the dead 
bodies of warriors and steeds; it has been supposed, 
therefore, that he perished in the stream; but his body 
was not found within its waters. 

When several years had passed away, and men^s minds, 
being restored to some degree of tranquillity, began to 
occupy themselves about the events of this dismal day, 
a rumor arose that Koderick had escaped from the 
carnage on the banks of the Guadalete, and was still 
alive. It was said that, having from a rising ground 
caught a view of the whole field of battle, and seen that 
the day was lost, and his army flying in all directions, he 
likewise sought his safety in flight. It is added that 
the Arab horsemen, while scouring the mountains in 
quest of fugitives, found a shepherd arrayed in the royal 
robes, and brought him before the conqueror, believing 
him to be the king himself. Count Julian soon dispelled 
the error. On being questioned, the trembling rustic 
declared that while tending his sheep in the folds of the 
mountains, there came a cavalier on a horse wearied and 
spent and ready to sink beneath the spur. That the 
cavalier with an authoritative voice and menacing air 
commanded him to exchange garments with him, and 
clad himself in his rude garb of sheep-skin, and took his 
crook and his scrip of provisions, and continued up the 
rugged defiles of the mountains leading toward Castile, 
until he was lost to view.* 

This tradition was fondly cherished by many, who 
clung to the belief in the existence of their monarch as 
their main hope for the redemption of Spain. It was 
even affirmed that he had taken refuge, with many of his 
host, in an island of the ^'Ocean Sea,^^ from whence he 
might yet return once more to elevate his standard, and 
battle for the recovery of his throne. 

Year after year, however, elapsed, and nothing was 
heard of Don Eoderick; yet, like Sebastian of Portugal, 
and Arthur of England, his name continued to be a rally- 
ing point for popular faith, and the mystery of his end 

*Bleda, Cron. L. 2, c. 9. Abulcasim Tarif Abentarique, L, 1, 
Q 10, 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 291 

to give rise to romantic fables. At length, when genera- 
tion after generation had sunk into the grave, and near 
two centuries had passed and gone, traces were said to 
be discovered that threw a light on the final fortunes or 
the unfortunate Eoderick. At that time Don Alphonso 
the Great, King of Leon, had wrested the city of Viseo 
in Lusitania from the hands of the Moslems. As his 
soldiers were ranging about the city and its environs, 
one of them discovered in a field, outside of the walis^ o. 
small chapel or hermitage, with a sepulcher in front, on 
which was inscribed this epitaph in Gothic characters-* 

HIC BEQUIESCIT KUDERICUS, 
TJLTIMUS REX GOTHORUM. 

(Hero lies Roderick, 
The last king of the Goths.) 

It has been believed by many that this was the verita- 
ble tomb of the monarch, and that in this hermitage he 
had finished his days in solitary penance. The warrior, 
as he contemplated the supposed tomb of the once 
haughty Eoderick, forgot all his faults and errors, and 
shed a soldier's tear over his memory; but when his 
thoughts turned to Count Julian his patriotic indigna- 
tion broke forth, and with his dagger he inscribed a rude 
malediction on the stone. 

^'Accursed,'' said he, ^*be the impious and headlong 
vengeance of the traitor Julian. He was a murderer of 
his king; a destroyer of his kindred; a betrayer of his 
country. May his name be bitter in every mouth, and 
his memory infamous to all generations!*' 

Here ends the legend of Don Roderick. 



ILLUSTEATIONS OF THE FOEEGOING LEGEND. 

THE TOMB OF RODERICK. 

The venerable Sebastiano, Bishop of Salamanca, de- 
clares that the inscription on the tomb at Viseo in Por- 
tugal existed in his time, and that he had seen it. A 
particular account of the exile and hermit life of Rod- 



292 ^^^ ALHAMBRA. 

erick is furnished by Berganza, on the authority of Por- 
tuguese chronicles. 

Algunos historiadores Portugueses asseguran, que el 
Bey Kodrigo, perdida la battalia, huyo a tierra de 
Merida, y se recogio en el monasterio de Cauliniano, en 
donde, arrepentido de sus culpas, procuro confessarlas 
, con muchas lagri mas. Deseando mas retiro, y escogi- 
endo por compafLero a un monge llamado Roman, y 
ehivando la Imagen de Nazareth, que Cyriaco monge de 
nacion griego avra traido de Jerusalem al monasterio de 
Cauliniano, se subio a un monte muy aspero, que estaba 
sobre el mar, junto al lugar de Pederneyra. Vivio 
Eodrigo en compania de el monge en el hueco de una 
gruta por espacio de un afio; despues se passo k la ermita 
de san Miguel, que estaba cerca de Viseo, en donde 
murio y fue sepultado. 

Puedese ver esta relacion en las notas de Don Thomas 
Tamayo sobre Paulo deacano. El chronicon de san 
Millan, que llega hasta el afio 883, deze que, hasta su 
tiempo, si ignora el fin del Key Eodrigo. Pocos afios 
despues el Eey Don Alonzo el Magno, avifindo gan ado 
la ciudad de Viseo, encontro en una iglesia el epitafio 
que en romance dize — aqui yaze Eodrigo, ultimo Eey de los 
Godos. — Berganza, L. 1, c. 13, 



TSK CAVE OF HERCULES. 

As the story of the necromantic tower is one of the 
most famous as well as least credible points in the his- 
tory of Don Eoderick, it may be well to fortify or but- 
tress it by some account of another marvel of the city of 
-Toledo. This ancient city, which dates its existence 
'vHlmost from the time of the flood, claiming as its founder 
'Tubal, the son of Japhet and grandson of Noah,* has 
been the warrior hold of many generations, and a strange 
diversity of races. It bears traces of the artifices and 
devices of its various occupants, and is full of mysteries 
and subjects for antiquarian conjecture and perplexity. 
It is built upon a high, rocky promontory, with the 
Tagus brawling round its base, and is overlooked by 

*Salazar, Hist. Gran, Cardinal, Prologo, vol. 1. plan 1. 



LEGENDS OP Tin: OONQUmT OF BPAIK 20;) 

cragged and precipitous hills. These hills ahound with 
clefts and caverns; and the promontory itself, on which 
the city is built, bears traces of vaults and subterraneous 
habitations, which are occasionally discovered under the 
ruins of ancient houses, or beneath the churches and 
convents. 

These are supposed by some to have been the habita- 
tions or retreats of the primitive inhabitants; for it was 
the custom of the ancients, according to Pliny, to make 
caves in high and rocky places, and live in them through 
fear of floods; and such a precaution, says the worthy 
Don Pedro de Roxas, in his history of Toledo, was natural 
enough among the first Toledans, seeing that they 
founded their city shortly after the deluge, while the 
memory of it was still fresh in their minds. 

Some have supposed these secret caves and vaults to 
have been places of concealment of the inhabitants and 
their treasure during times of war and violence; or rude 
temples for the performance of religious ceremonies in 
times of persecution. There are not wanting other and 
grave writers who give them a still darker purpose. In 
these caves, say they, were taught the diabolical mysteries 
of magic; and here were performed those infernal cere- 
monies and incantations horrible in the eyes of God and 
man. ^^History,'^ says the worthy Don Pedro de Eoxas, 
'"is full of accounts that the magi taught and performed 
their magic and their superstitious rites in profound 
caves and secret places; because, as this art of the devil 
was prohibited from the very origin of Christianity, they 
always sought for hidden places in which to practice it.'^ 
In the time of the Moors this art, we are told, was publicly 
taught at their universities, the same as astronomy, phi- 
losophy and mathematics, and at no place was it cultivated 
with more success than at Toledo. Hence, this city has 
ever been darkly renowned for mystic science; insomuch 
that the magic art was called by the French and by other 
nations the Arte Toledana. 

Of all the marvels, however, of this ancient, picturesque, 
romantic and necromantic city, none in modern times 
surpass the cave of Hercules, if we may take the account 
of Don Pedro de Roxas for authentic. The entrance to 
this cave is within the church of San Gines, situated in 
nearly the highest part of the city. The portal is se- 



294 ^^^ ^ ^'^^ MBRA . 

cured bj massy doors opening within the walls of the 
chnrch/but which are kept rigorously closed. The 
cavern extends under the city, and beneath the bed of the 
Tagus to the distance of three leagues beyond. It is in 
some places of rare architecture, built of small stones 
curiously wrought, and supported by columns and arches. 

In the year 1546 an account of this covern was given 
to the Archbishop and Cardinal Don Juan Martinez 
Siliceo, who, desirous of examining it, ordered the en- 
trance to be cleaned. A number of persons, furnished 
with provisions, lanterns, and cords, then went in, and 
having proceeded about half a league, came to a place 
where there was a kind of chapel or temple, having a 
table or altar, with several statues of bronze in niches or 
on pedestals. 

While they were regarding this mysterious scene of 
ancient worship or incantation, one of the statues fell, 
with a noise that echoed through the cavern, and smote 
the hearts of the adventurers with terror. Kecovering 
from their alarm they proceeded onward, but were soon 
again dismayed by a roaring and rushing sound that in- 
creased as they advanced. It was made by a furious and 
turbulent stream, the dark waters of which were too deep 
and broad and rapid to be crossed. By this time their 
hearts were so chilled with awe, and their thoughts so 
bewildered, that they could not seek any other passage 
by which they might advance; so they turned back and 
hastened out of the cave. It was nightfall when they 
sallied forth, and they were so much affected by the ter- 
ror they had undergone, and by the cold and damp air of 
the cavern, to which they were the more sensible from 
its being in the summer, that all of them fell sick and 
several of them died. Whether the archbishop was en- 
co iraged to pursue his research and gratify his curiosity, 
the history does not mention. 

Alonzo Telles de Meneses, in his history of the world, 
records that not long before his time a boy of Toledo, 
being threatened with punishment by his master, fled 
and took refuge in this cave. Fancying his pursuer at 
his heels, he took no heed of the obscurity or coldness of 
the cave, but kept groping and blundering forward, un- 
til became forth at three leagues' distance from the city. 

Another and very popular story of this cave, current 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQ UEST OF SPAIN. . 295 

among the common people, was that in its remote re- 
cesses lay concealed a great treasure of gold, left there 
by the Romans. Whoever would reach this precious 
hoard must pass through several caves or grottoes, each 
having its particular terror, and all under the guardian- 
ship of a ferocious dog, who has the key of all the gates, 
and watches day and night. At the approach of any one 
he shows his teeth and makes a hideous growling; but 
no adventurer after wealth has had courage to brave a 
contest with this terrific Cerberus. 

The most intrepid candidate on record was a poor man 
who had lost his all, and had those grand incentives to 
desperate enterprise, a wife and a large family of children. 
Hearing the story of this cave, he determined to venture 
alone in search of the treasure. He accordingly entered, . 
and wandered many hours, bewildered, about the cave. 
Often would he have returned, but the thoughts of his 
wife and children urged him on. At length he arrived 
near to the place where he supposed the treasure lay 
hidden; but here, to his dismay, he beheld the floor of 
the cavern strewn with human bones, doubtless the re- 
mains of adventurers like himself, who had been torn to 
pieces. 

Losing all courage, he now turned and sought his way 
out of the cave. Horrors thickened upon him as he fled. 
He beheld direful phantoms glaring and gibbering around 
him, and heard the sound of pursuit in the echoes of his 
footsteps. He reached his home overcome with affright; 
several hours elapsed before he could recover speech to 
tell his story, and he died on the following day. 

The judicious Don Pedro de Roxas holds the account 
of the buried treasure for fabulous, but the adventure of 
this unlucky man for very possible; being led on by 
avarice, or rather the hope of retrieving a desperate for- 
tune. He moreover pronounces his dying shortly after 
coming forth as very probable; because the darkness of 
the cave, its coldness, the fright at finding the bones, 
the dread of meeting the imaginary dog — all joining to 
operate upon a man who was past the prime of his days, 
and enfeeoled by poverty and scanty food, might easily 
cause his death. 

Many have considered this cave as intended originally 
for a sally or retreat from the city in case it should be 



296 ^^^ ALEAMBRA. 

taken; an opinion rendered probabb> it is thought, by 
its grandeur and great extent. 

The learned Salazar de Mendoza, however, in his his- 
tory of the grand cardinal of Spain, aflBrms it as an 
established fact that it was first wrought out of the rock 
by Tubal, the son of Japhet, and grandson of Noah, and 
afterward repaired and greatly augmented bv Hercules 
the Egyptian, who made it his habitation after he had 
erected his pillars at the straits of Gibraltar. Here, too, 
it is said, he read magic to his followers, and taught 
them those supernatural arts by which he accomplished 
his vast achievements. Others think that it was a tem- 
ple dedicated to Hercules; as was the case, according 
to Pomponius Mela, with the great cave in the rock of 
Gibraltar; certain it is, that it has always borne the 
name of '^The Cave of Hercules.'* 

There are not wanting some who have insinuated that 
it was a work dating from the time of the Eomans, and 
intended as a cloaca or sewer of the city; but such a 
groveling insinuation will be treated with proper scorn 
by the reader, after the nobler purposes to which he has 
heard this marvelous cavern consecrated. 

From all the circumstances here adduced from learned 
and reverend authors, it will be perceived that Toledo is 
a city fruitful of marvels, and that the necromantic tower 
of Hercules has more solid foundation than most edifices 
of similar import in ancient history. 

The writer of these pages will venture to add the re- 
sult of his personal researches respecting the far-famed 
cavern in question. Rambling about Toledo in the year 
1826 in company with a small knot of antiquity hunters, 
among whom was an eminent British painter,* and an 
English nobleman, f who has since distinguished himself 
in Spanish historical research, we directed our steps to 
the church of San Gines, and inquired for the portal of 
the secret cavern. The sacristan was a voluble and com- 
municative man, and one not likely to be niggard of his 
tongue about anything he knew, or slow to boast of any 
marvel pertaining to his church; but he professed utter 
ignorance of the existence of any such portal. He re- 
membered to have heard, however, that immediately 

rf Mr. D. W-kie, f J^ort Mah— u. 



LEGENDS OF THE CONQUEST OF SPAIN 2^1 

under the entrance to the church there was an arch of 
mason-work, apparently the upper part of some subter- 
ranean portal; but that all had been covered up and a 
pavement laid down thereon; so that whether it led to 
the magic cave or the necromantic tower remains a mys- 
tery, and so must remain until some monarch or arch- 
bishop shall again have courage and authority to break 
the spell. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN 299 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN.' 



CHAPTER I. 

CONSTERKATION" OF SPAIK — CONDUCT OF THE COKQUEB- 
ORS — MISSIVES BETWEEi^ TARIC AND MUZA. 

The overthrow of King Roderick and his army on the 
banks of the Guadalete threw open all Southern Spain 
to the inroads of the Moslems. The whole country fled 
before them; villages and hamlets were hastily abandoned; 
the inhabitants placed their aged and infirm, their wives 
and children, and their most precious effects, on mules 
and other beasts of burden, and, driving before them 
their flocks and herds, made for distant parts of the land — 
for the fastnesses of the mountains, and for such of the 
cities as yet possessed walls and bulwarks. Many gave 
out, faint and weary, by the way, and fell into the hands 
of the enemy; others, at the distant sight of a turban or 
a Modem standard, or on hearing the clangor of a trum- 
pet, abandoned their flocks and herds and hastened their 
flight with their families. If their pursuers gained upon 
them, they threw by their household goods and what- 
ever was of burden, and thought themselves fortunate to 
escape, naked and destitute, to a place of refuge. Thus 
the roads were covered with scattered flocks and herds, 
and with spoil of all kind. 

The Arabs, however, were not guilty of wanton cruelty 
or ravage; on the contrary, they conducted themselves 

* In this legend most of the facts respecting the Arab inroads into 
Spain are on the authority of Arabian writers, who had the most 
accurate means of information. Those relative to the Spaniards are 
chiefly from old Spanish chronicles. It is to be remarked that the 
Arab accounts have most the air of verity, and the events as they 
relate them are in the ordinaiy course of common life. The Spanish 
accounts, on the contrary, are full of the marvelous; for there were 
no greater romancers than the monkish chroniclera. 



300 THE ALIUMBBA. 

with a moderation but seldom witnessed in more civilized 
conquerors, Taric el Tuerto, though a thorough man of 
the sword, and one whose whole thoughts were warlike, 
yet evinced wonderful judgment and discretion. He 
checked the predatory habits of his troops with a rigor- 
ous hand. They were forbidden, under pain of severe 
punishment, to molest any peaceable and unfortified 
towns, or any unarmed and unresisting people, who re- 
mained quiet in their homes. No spoil was permitted 
to be made excepting in fields of battle, in camps of 
routed foes, or in cities taken by the sword. 

Taric had little need to exercise his severity; his 
orders were obeyed through love rather than fear, for 
he was the idol of his soldiery. They admired his rest- 
less and daring spirit, which nothing could dismay. His 
gaunt and sinewy form, his fiery eye, his visage seamed 
with scars, were suited to the hardihood of his deeds; 
and when mounted on his foaming steed, careering the 
field of battle with quivering lance or flashing scimitar, 
his Arabs would greet him with shouts of enthusiasm. 
But what endeared him to them more than all was his 
soldier-like contempt of gain. Conquest was his only 
passion; glory the only reward he coveted. As to the 
spoil of the conquered, he shared it freely among his 
followers, and squandered his own portion with open- 
handed generosity. 

While Taric was pushing his triumphant course 
through Andalusia, tidings of his stupendous victory on 
the banks of the Guadalete were carried to Muza ben 
Nosier. Messengers after messengers arrived, vying who 
should most extol the achievements of the conqueror and 
the grandeur of the conquest. ''Taric,^^ said they, *'has 
overthrown the whole force of the unbelievers in one 
mighty battle. Their king is slain; thousands and tens 
of thousands of their warriors are destroyed; the whole 
land lies at our mercy; and city after city is surrender- 
ing to the victorious arms of Taric. ^^ 

The heart of Muza ben Nosier sickened at these tid- 
ings, and instead of rejoicing at the success of the cause 
of Islam, he trembled with jealous fear lest the triumphs 
of Taric in Spain should eclipse his own victories in 
Africa. He dispatched missives to the Caliph Waled 
Almanzor, informing him of these new conquests, but 



Legend of the subjugation of spain. 301 

taking the whole glory to himself, and making no men- 
tion of the services of Taric; or at least, only mention- 
ing him incidentally as a subordinate commander. ^'The 
battles/' said he, '*^have been terrible as the day of judg- 
ment; but by the aid of Allah we have gained the 
victory/' 

He then prepared in all haste to cross over into Spain 
and assume the command of the conquering army; and 
he wrote a letter in advance to interrupt Taric in the 
midst of his career. ^'Wherever this letter may lind 
thee/' said he, *'I charge thee halt with thy army and 
await my coming. Thy force is inadequate to the subju- 
gation of the land, and by rashly venturing, thou mayst 
lose everything. I will be with thee speedily, with a 
leenforcement of troops competent to so great an enter- 
prise.'' 

The letter overtook the veteran Taric while in the full 
glow of triumphant success, having overrun some of the 
richest parts of Andalusia, and just received the sur- 
iender of the city of Ecija. As he read the letter the 
blood mantled in his sunburnt cheek and fire kindled in 
his eye, for he penetrated the motives of Muza. He sup- 
nressed his wrath, however, and turning with a bitter 
expression of forced composure to his captains, ^^TJn- 
saddle your steeds," said he, ^^and plant your lances in 
the earth; set up your tents and take your repose; for we 
must await the coming of the Wali with a mighty force 
to assist us in our conquest." 

The Arab warriors broke forth with loud murmurs at 
these words: ^'What need have we of aid," cried they, 
^'when the whole country is flying before us, and what 
better commander can we have than Taric to lead us on 
to victory ?" 

Count J dlian, also, who was present, now hastened to 
give his traitorous counsel. 

**Why pause," cried he, '*at this precious moment? 
The great army of the Goths is vanquished, and their 
nobles are slaughtered or dispersed. Follow up your 
blow before the land can recover from its panic. Over- 
run the provinces, seize upon the cities, make yourself 
master of the capital, and your conquest is complete." ♦ 

* C9<l4ef p- 1» c- 10. 



302 THE ALHAMBBA. 

The advice of Julian was applauded by all the Arab 
chieftains, who were impatient of any interruption in 
their career of conquest. Taric was easily persuaded to 
what was the wish of his heart. Disregarding the letter 
of Muza, therefore, he prepared to pursue his victories. 
For this purpose he ordered a review of his troops on the 
plain of Ecija. Some were mounted on steeds which 
they had brought from Africa; the rest he supplied with 
horses taken from the Christians. He repeated his 
general orders, that they should inflict no wanton injury, 
nor plunder any place that oflEered no resistance. They 
were forbidden, also, to incumber themselves with booty, 
or even with provisions; but were to scour the country 
with all speed, and seize upon all its fortresses and 
strongholds. 

He then divided his host into three several armies. 
One he placed under the command of the Greek rene- 
gade, Magued el fiumi, a man of desperate courage; and 
sent it against the ancient city of Cordova. Another 
was sent against the city of Malaga, and was led by Zayd 
ben Kesadi, aided by the Bishop Oppas. The third was 
led by Taric himself, and with this he determined to 
make a wide sweep through the kingdom.* 



CHAPTER 11. 

CAPTURE OF GRANADA— SUBJUGATION OF THE ALPUX' 
AREA MOUNTAINS. 

The terror of the arms of Taric ben Zeyad went before 
him; and, at the same time, the report of his lenity to 
those who submitted without resistance. Wherever he 
appeared, the towns, for the most part, sent forth some 
of their principal inhabitants to proffer a suiTender; for 
they were destitute of fortifications, and their fighting 
men had perished in battle. They were all received into 
allegiance to the caliph, and were protected from pillage 
or molestation. 

After marching some distance through the country, 

he entered one day a vast and beautiful plain, inter- 

" ' ' " ' ■ ■■' ' . ■ , ■ „ ■ ii g^ 

*CrQ«iQft 4^ Espana. de hXWf^Q ^\ 8^Wq, P 3, c, J. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 303 

spersed with villages, adorned with groves and gardens, 
watered by winding rivers, and surrounded by lofty 
mountains. It was the famous vega, or plain of Granada, 
destined to be forages the favorite abode of the Moslems. 
When the Arab conquerors beheld this delicious vega 
they were lost in admiration; for it seemed as if the 
Prophet had given them a paradise on earth, as a reward 
for their services in his cause. 

Taric approached the city of Granada, which had a 
formidable aspect, seated on lofty hills and fortified with 
Gothic walls and towers, and with the red castle or cita- 
del, built in times of old by the Phoenicians or the 
Eomans. As the Arab chieftain eyed the place he wa/ 
pleased with its stern warrior look, contrasting with tXe 
smiling beauty of its vega, and the freshness and volup- 
tuous abundance of its hills and valleys. He pitched vis 
tents before its walls, and made preparations to attack.it 
with all his force. 

The city, however, bore but the semblance of power. 
The flower of its youth had perished in the battle of the 
Gaudalete; many of the principal inhabitants had fled to 
the mountains, and few remained m the city excepting 
old men, women, and children, and a number of Jews, 
which last were well disposed to take part with the con- 
*juerors. The city, therefore, readily capitulated, and 
was received into vassalage on favorable terms. The in- 
habitants were to retain their property, their laws, and 
their religion; their churches and priests were to be re- 
spected; and no other tribute was required of them than 
such as they had been accustomed to pay to their Gothic 
kings. 

On taking possession of Granada Taric garrisoned th© 
towers and castles, and left as alcayde or governor a 
chosen warrior named Betiz Aben Habuz, a native of 
Arabia Felix, who had distinguished himself by his valor 
and abilities. This alcayde subsequently made himself 
king of Granada, and built a palace on one of its hills; 
the remains of which may be seen at the present day.* 

* The house shown as the ancient residence of Aben Habuz is 
called la Casa del Gallo, or the house of the weathercock; so named, 
says Pedraza, in his history of Granada, from a bronze figure of an 
Arab horseman, armed with lance and buckler, which once sur 



304 ^S^ ALHAMBRA. 

Even the delights of Granada had no power to detain 
the active and ardent Taric. To the east of the city he 
beheld a lofty chain of mountains, towering to the sky, 
and crowned with shining snow. These were the 
'^Mountains of the Sun and Air;'' and the perpetual 
snows on their summits gave birth to streams that ferti- 
lized the plains. In their bosoms, shut up among cliflEs 
and precipices, were many small valleys of great beauty 
and abundance. The inhabitants were a bold and hardy 
race, who looked upon their mountains as everlasting 
fortresses that could never be taken. The inhabitants of 
the surrounding country had fled to these natural fast- 
nesses for refuge, and driven thither their flocks and 
herds. 

Taric felt that the dominion he had acquired of the 
plains would be insecure until he had penetrated and 
subdued these haughty mountains. Leaving Aben 
Habuz, therefore, in command of Granada, he marched 
with his army across the vega, and entered the folds of 
the Sierra, which stretched toward the south. The in- 
habitants fled with affright on hearing the Moorish trum- 
pets, or beholding the approach of the turbaned horse- 
men, and plunged deeper into the recesses of their moun- 
tains. As the army advanced the roads became more 
and more rugged and difficult, sometimes climbing great 
rocky heights, and at other times descending abruptly 
into deep ravines, the beds of winter torrents. The 
mountains were strangely wild and sterile, broken into 
cliffs and precipices of variegated marble. At their feet 
were little valleys enameled with groves and gardens, 

mounted it, and which varied with every wind. On this warlike 
weathercock was inscribed, in Arabic characters: 

Dice el sabio Aben Habuz 
Que asi se defiende el Andaluz. 

(In this way, says Aben Habuz the wise, 
The Andalusian" his foe defies.) 

The Casa del Gallo, even until within twenty years, possessed two 
great halls beautifully decorated with Morisco reliefs. It then caught 
ure and was so damaged as to require to be nearly rebuilt. It is now 
a manufactory of coarse canvas, and has nothing of the Moorish 
character remaining. It commands a beautiful view of the city and 



LEGEND GF THE SUBJUGATION OS" SPAIN. 305 

interlaced with silver streams, and studded with villages 
and hamlets, but all deserted by their inhabitants. No 
one appeared to dispute the inroad of the Moslems, who 
continued their march with increasing confidence, their 
pennons fluttering from rock and cliff, and the valleys 
echoing to the din of trumpet, drum, and cymbal. At 
length they came to a defile where the mountains 
.seemed to have been rent asunder to make way for a foam- 
ing torrent. The narrow and broken road wound along 
the dizzy edge of precipices, until it came to where a bridge 
was thrown across the chasm. It was a fearful and 
gloomy pass; great beetling clifEs overhung the road, 
and the torrent roared below. This awful defile has 
ever been famous in the warlike history of those moun- 
tains, by the name, in former times, of the Barranco de 
Tocos, and at present of the bridge of Tablete. The 
Saracen army entered fearlessly into the pass; a part had 
already crossed the bridge, and was slowly toiling up the 
rugged road on the opposite side, when great shouts 
arose, and every cliff appeared suddenly peopled with 
furious foes. In an instant a deluge of missiles of every 
sort was rained upon the astonished Moslems. Darts, 
arrows, javelins, and stones, came whistling down, sin- 
gling out the most conspicuous cavaliers; and at times 
great masses of rock, bounding and thundering along the 
mountain side, crushed whole ranks at once, or hurled 
horses and riders over the edge of the precipices. 

It was in vain to attempt to brave this mountain war- 
fare. The enemy were beyond the reach of missiles, and 
safe from pursuit; and the horses of the Arabs were here 
an incumbrance rather than an aid. The trumpets 
sounded a retreat and the army retired in tumult and 
confusion, harassed by the enemy until extricated from 
the defile. Taric, who had beheld cities and castles sur- 
rendering without a blow, was enraged at being braved 
by a mere horde of mountain boors, and made another 
attempt to penetrate the mountains, but was again way- 
laid and opposed with horrible slaughter. 

The fiery son of Ishmael foamed with rage at being 
thus checked in his career and foiled in his revenge. He 
was on the point of abandoning the attempt, and return- 
ing to the vega, when a Cliristian boor sought his camp, 
iiiad was admitted to his pres'^^^ce. The miserable wretch 



306 THE ALHAMBRA. 

possessed a cabin and a little patch of ground among the 
mountains, and offered, if these should be protected from 
ravage, to inform the Arab commander of a way by 
whicn troops of horse might be safely introduced into 
the bosom of the sierra, and the whole subdued. The 
name of this caitifiE was Fandino, and it deserves to be 
perpetually recorded with ignominy. His case is an in- 
stance how much it is in the power, at times, of the most 
insignificant being to do mischief, and how all the valor 
of the magnanimous and the brave may be defeated by 
the treason of the selfish and the despicable. 

Instructed by this traitor, the Arab commander caused 
ten thousand foot-soldiers and four thousand horsemen, 
commanded by a valiant captain, named Ibrahim Albux- 
arra, to be conveyed by sea to the little port of Adra, at 
the Mediterranean foot of the mountains. Here they 
landed and, guided by the traitor, penetrated to the 
heart of the sierra, laying everything waste. The brave 
mountaineers, thus hemmed in between two armies, 
destitute of fortresses and without hope of succor, were 
obliged to capitulate; but their valor was not without 
avail, for never, even in Spain, did vanquished people 
surrender on prouder or more honorable terms. tVe 
have named the wretch who betrayed his native moun- 
tains; let us, equally, record the name of him whose 
pious patriotism saved them from desolation. It w^as 
the reverend Bishop Centerio. While the warriors rested 
on their arms in grim and menacing tranquillity among 
the cliffs, this venerable prelate descended to the Arab 
tents in the valley, to conduct the capitulation. In 
stipulating for the safety of his people, he did not forget 
that they were brave men, and that they still had weapons 
in their hands. He obtained conditions accordingly. It 
was agreed that they should be permitted to retain their 
houses, lands, and personal efl!ects; that they should be 
unmolested in their religion, and their temples and 
priests respected; and that they should pay no other 
tribute than such as they had been accustomed to render 
to their kings. Should they prefer to leave the country 
and to remove to any part of Christendom, they w^ere to 
be allowed to sell their possessions; and to take with 
them the money, and all their other effects.* 

"^Pecjraza, Hist. Granad. p. 3, c. 2. Bleda, Cronica, L. 2, c. 10. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 30? 

Ibrahim Albuxarra remained in command of the terri- 
tory, and the whole sierra, or chain of mountains,, took 
his name, which has since been slightly corrupted into 
that of the Alpuxarras. The subjugation of this rugged 
region, however, was for a long time incomplete; many 
of the Christians maintained a wild and hostile independ- 
ence, living in green glens and scanty valleys among 
the heights; and the sierra of the Alpuxarras has, in all 
ages, been one of the most difficult parts of Andalusia to 
b? subdued. 



CHAPTER III. 

EXPEDITION OF MAGUED AGAIKST CORDOVA — DEFENSE 
OF THE PATRIOT PELISTES. 

While the veteran Taric was making this wide circuit 
through the land, the expedition under Magued the 
renegado proceeded against the city of Cordova. The 
inhabitants of that ancient place had beheld the great 
army of Don Roderick spreading like an inundation over 
the plain of the Guadalquivir, and had felt confident 
that it must sweep the infidel invaders from the land. 
What then was their dismay, when scattered fugitives, 
wild with horror and affright, brought them tidings of 
the entire overthrow of that mighty host, and the disap- 
pearance of the king! In the midst of their consterna- 
tion, the Gothic noble, Pelistes, arrived at their gates, 
haggard with fatigue of body and anguish of mind, and 
leading a remnant of his devoted cavaliers, who had sur- 
vived the dreadful battle of the Guadalete. The people 
of Cordova knew the valiant and steadfast spirit of 
Pelistes, and rallied round him as a last hope. *^Rod-, 
erick is fallen," cried they, '*and we have neither king 
nor captain; be unto us as a sovereign; take command 
of our city, and protect us in this hour of peril I" 

The heart of Pelistes was free from ambition, and was 
too much broken by grief to be flattered by the offer of 
command; but he felt above everything for the woes of 
his country, and was ready to assume any desperate 
service in her cause. '^Your city," said he, *^is sur- 
rounded by walls and towers, and may yet chock the 



308 TEE ALEAMBRA. 

progress of the foe. Promise to stand by me till the 
last, and I will undertake your defense/' The inhabit* 
ants all promised implicit obedience and devoted zeal- 
for what will not the inhabitants of a wealthy city 
promise and profess in a moment of alarm? The instant 
however, that they heard of the approach of the Moslem 
troops, the wealthier citizens packed up their effects and 
fled to the mountains, or to the distant city of Toledo. 
Even the monks collected the riches of their convents 
and churches, and fled. Pelistes, though he saw himself 
thus deserted by those who had the greatest interest in 
the safety of the city, yet determined not to abandon its 
defense. ^ He had still his faithful though scanty band 
of cavaliers, and a number of fugitives of the army in 
all amounting to about four hundred men. He stationed 
guards, therefore, at the gates and in the towers, and 
made every preparation for a desperate resistance. 

In the meantime, the army of Moslems and apostate 
Christians advanced, under the command of the Greek 
renegado, Magued, and guided bv the traitor Julian. 
While they were yet at some distance from the city their 
scouts brought to them a shepherd, whom they had sur- 
prised on the banks of the Guadalquivir. The trem- 
bling hind was an inhabitant of Cordova, and revealed to 
them the state of the place, and the weakness of its ^ar- 
nson. ° 

'^And the walls and gates,'' said Magued, '^are thev 
strong and well guarded?" ^ 

''The walls are high, and of wondrous strength," re- 
plied the shepherd, ^*and soldiers hold watch at the ^ates 
by day and night. But there is one place where the city 
may be secretly entered. In a part of the wall, not far 
±rom the bridge, the battlements are broken, and there 
IS a breach at some height from the ground. Hard bv 
stands a fig-tree, by the aid of which the wall may easily 
be scaled." "^ ^ 

Having received this information, Magued halted with 
his army, and sent forward several renegade Christians 
partisans of Count Julian, who entered Cordova as if 
flying before the enemy. On a dark and tempestuous 
iJight the Moslems approached to the end of the bridge 
which crosses the Guadalquivir, and remained in am- 
bush. Magued took a small party of chosen meij and. 



LEGEND OF THE SUB JUG A TIG IT OF SPAm. 309 

guided by the shepherd, forded the stream and groped 
silently along the wall to the place where stood the 
figtree. The traitors, who had fraudulently entered 
the city, were ready on the wall to render assistance. 
Magued ordered his followers to make use of the long 
folds of their turbans instead of cords, and succeeded 
without difficulty in clambering into the breach. 

Drawing their scimitars, they now hastened to the 
gate which opened toward the bridge; the guards, sus- 
pecting no assault from within, were taken by surprise, 
and easily overpowered; the gate was thrown open, and 
the army that had remained in ambush rushed over the 
bridge and entered without opposition. 

The alarm had by this time spread throughout the 
city; but already a torrent of armed men was pouring 
through the streets. Pelistes sallied forth with his cava- 
liers and such of the soldiery as he could collect, and 
endeavored to repel the foe; but every effort was in vain. 
The Christians were slowly driven from street to street, 
and square to square, disputing every inch of ground; 
until, finding another body of the enemy approaching to 
attack them in rear, they took refuge in a convent, and 
succeeded in throwing to and barring the ponderous 
doors. The Moors attempted to force the gates, but 
were assailed with such showers of missiles from the 
windows and battlements that they were obliged to 
retire. Pelistes examined the convent, and found it 
admirably calculated for defense. It was of great ex- 
tent, with spacious courts and cloisters. The gates were 
massive, and secured with bolts and bars; the walls were 
of great thickness; the windows high and grated; there 
was a great tank or cistern of water, and the friars, who 
had fled from the city, had left behind a good supply of 
provisions. Here, then, Pelistes proposed to make a 
stand, and to endeavor to hold out until succor should 
arrive from some other city. His proposition Avas re- 
ceived with shouts by his loyal cavaliers, not one of 
whom but was ready to lay down his life in the service of 
his commander. 



310 THE ALHAMBRA. 

CHAPTER IV, 

DEFEKaE OF* THE CONVENT OF ST. GEORGE BY PELISTES, 

For three long and anxious months- did the goo.? 
kright Pelistes and his cavaliers defend their sacred 
as /lum against the repeated assaults of the infidels. 
The standard of the true faith was constantly displayed 
from the loftiest tower, and a fire blazed there through- 
out the night, as signals of distress to the surround?r.g 
country. The watchman from his turret keep a wary 
lookout over the land, hoping in every cloud of dust Vj 
descry the glittering helms of Christian warriors. Th^ 
country, however, was forlorn and abandoned, or if per- 
chance a human being was perceived, it was some Arjib 
horseman, careering the plain of the Guadalquivir ar> 
fearlessly as if it were his native desert. 

By degrees the provisions of the convent were con- 
sumed, and the cavaliers had to slay their horses, one bv 
one, for food. They suffered the wasting miseries ox 
famine without a murmur, and always met their com- 
mander with a smile. Pelistes, however, read their 
sufferings in their wan and emaciated countenances, and 
felt more for them than for himself. He was grieved at 
heart that such loyalty and valor should only lead to 
slavery or death, and resolved to make one desperate 
attempt for their deliverance. Assembling them one 
day in the court of the convent he disclosed to them his 
purpose. 

"Comrades and brothers in arms,^' said he, ''it is need- 
less to conceal danger from brave men. Our case i^ des- 
perate; our countrymen either know not or heed not our 
situation, or have not the means to help us. There is 
but one chance of escape; it is full of peril, and, as your 
leader, I claim the right to brave it. To-morrow at 
break of day I will sally forth and make for the city gates 
at the moment of their being opened; no one will sus- 
pect a solitary horseman; I shall be taken for one of 
those recreant Christians who have basely mingled with 
the enemy. If I succeed in getting out of the city I will 
hasten to Toledo for assistance. In all events I shall be 
back in less than twenty days. Keep a vigilant lookout 
towai'd the nearest mountain. If you behold five lights 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 311 

blazing upon its summit, be assured I am at hand with 
succor, and prepare yourselves to sally forth upon the 
city as I attack the gates. Should I fail in obtaining 
aid, I will return to die with you.'^ 

When he liad finished his warriors would fain have 
severally undertaken the enterprise, and they remon- 
strated against his exposing himself to such peril; but 
he was not to be shaken from his purpose. On the fol- 
lowing morning, ere the break of day, his horse was led 
forth, caparisoned, into the court of the convent, and 
Pelistes appeared in complete armor. Assembling his 
cavaliers in the chapel, he prayed with them for some 
time before the altar of the holy Virgin. Then rising 
;ynd standing in the midst of them, ''God knows, my 
companions,^' said he, ' Vhether we have any longer a 
country; if not, better were we in our graves. Loyal 
and true have ye been to me, and loyal have ye been to 
my son, even to the hour of his death; and grieved am I 
that I have no other means of proving my love for you 
than by adventuring my worthless life for your deliver- 
ance. All I ask of you before I go is a solemn promise 
to defend yourselves to the last like brave men and 
Christian cavaliers, and never to renounce your faith or 
throw yourselves on the mercy of the renegade Magued, 
or the traitor Julian.'* They all pledged their words, 
and took a solemn oath to the same effect before the 
altar. 

Pelistes then embraced them one by one, and gave 
them his benediction, and as he did so his heart yearned 
over them, for he felt toward them, not merely as a 
companion in arms and as a commander, but as a father; 
and he took leave of them as if he had been going to his 
death. The warriors, on their part, crowded round him 
in silence, kissing his hands and the hem of his surcoat^ 
and many of the sternest shed tears. 

The gray of the dawning had just streaked the east 
when Pelistes took lance in hand, hung his shield about 
his neck and, mounting his steed, issued quietly forth 
from a postern of the convent. He paced slowly 
through the vacant streets, and the tramp of his steed 
echoed afar in that silent hour; but no one suspected a 
warrior, moving thus singly and tranquilly in an armed 
city, to b© m enemy. He arrived at the gate just at the 



812 THE ALEAMBRA, 

hour of opening; a foraging party was entering with cat- 
tle and with beasts of burden, and he passed unheeded 
through the throng. As soon as he was out of sight, 
of the soldiers who guarded the gate he quickened his 
pace, and at length, galloping afc full speed, succeeded 
in gaining the mountains. Here he paused, and alighted 
at a solitary farmhouse to breathe his panting steed; 
but had scarce put foot to ground when he heard the 
distant sound of pursuit, and beheld a horseman spur- 
Ting up the mountain. 

Throwing himself again upon his steed, he abandoned 
the road and galloped across the rugged heights. The 
deep dry channel of a torrent checked his career, and bis 
horse, stumbling upon the margin, rolled with his rider 
to the bottom. Pelistes was sorely bruised by the faily 
and his whole visage was bathed in blood. His horse, 
too, was maimed and unable to stand, so that there was 
no hope of escape. The enemy drew near, and proved 
to be no other than Magued, the renegade general, who 
had perceived him as he issued forth from the city and 
had followed singly in pursuit. ^'Well met, Sefior 
Alcayde!'^ exclaimed he, ^^and overtaken in good time. 
Surrender yourself my prisoner. ^^ 

Pelistes made no other reply than by drawing his 
sword, bracing his shield, and preparing for defense- 
Magued, though an apostate, and a fierce warrior, pos« 
sessed some sparks of knightly magnanimity. Seeing 
his adversary dismounted, he disdained to take him at a 
disadvantage, but, alighting, tied his horse to a tree. 

The conflict that ensued was desperate and doubtful, 
for seldom had two warriors met so well matched or of 
equal prowess. Their shields were hacked to pieces, the 
ground was strewed with fragments of their armor, and 
stained with their blood. They paused repeatedly to 
take breath; regarding each other with wonder and ad- 
' miration. Pelistes, however, had been previously in- 
jured by his fall, and fought to great disadvantage. The 
renegade perceived it, and sought not to slay him, but to 
take him alive. Shifting his ground continually, he 
wearied his antagonist, who was growing weaker and 
weaker from the loss of blood. At length Pelistes 
aeemed to summon up all his remaining strength to 
W»k^ ^ sigiial blQiYj it was skillfully parried, m^ h^ ^^il 



LEGEND OF THE StlBJUQATION OF SPAIN. 313 

prostrate upon the ground. The renegado ran up and, 
putting his foot upon his sword and the point of his 
scimitar to his throat, called upon bim to ask his life; 
but Pelistes lay without sense, and as one dead. Magued 
then unlaced the helmet of his vanquished enemy, and 
seated himself on a rock beside him, to recover breath. 
In this situation the warriors were found by certain 
Moorish cavaliers, who marveled much ?.t the traces of 
that stern and bloody combat. 

Finding there was yet life in the Christian knight, 
they laid him upon one of their horse,^ and, aiding 
Magued to remount his steed, proceeded fciowly to the 
city. As the convoy passed by the convent, ilie cavaliers 
looked forth and beheld their commander Lurne along 
bleeding and a captive. Furious at the sight, they sallied 
forth to the rescue, but were repulsed by a superior force 
and driven back to the great portal of the churci:. The 
enemy entered pellmell with them, fighting from aisle 
to aisle, from altar to altar, and in the courts and clois- 
ters of the convent. The greater part of the cavaliers 
died bravely, sword in hand; the rest were disabled with 
wounds and made prisoners. The convent, which was 
lately their castle, was now made their prison, and in, 
after-times, in commemoration of this event, was conse* 
crated by the name of St. George of the Captives. 



CHAPTER V. 

MEETING BETWEEN" THE PATRIOT PELISTES AND THE 
TRAITOR JULIAN. 

The loyalty and prowess of the good knight Pelistes 
had gained him the reverence even of his enemies. He 
was for a long time disabled by his wounds, during which 
he was kindly treated by the Arab chieftains, who strove 
by every courteous means to checjr his sadness and make 
him forget that he was a captive. When he was recov- 
ered from his wounds they gave him a magnificent ban- 
quet, to testify their admiration of his virtues. 

Pelistes appeared at the banquet clad in sable armor, 
and with a countenance pale and dejected, for the ills of 
Mil* ftountrv evermore preyed upon his heart. Among 



314 THE ALHAMBRA. 

the assembled guests was Count Julian, who held a high 
command in the Moslem army, and was arrayed in gar- 
ments of mingled Christian and Morisco fashion. Pelistes 
had been a close and bosom friend of Julian in former 
times, and had served with him in the wars in Africa, 
but when the count advanced to accost him with his 
wonted amity, he turned away in silence and deigned not 
to notice him; neither, during the whole of the repast, 
did he address to him ever a word, but treated him as 
one unknown. 

When the banquet was nearly at a close, the discourse 
turned upon the events of the war, and the Moslem 
chieftains, in great courtesy, dwelt upon the merits of 
many of the Christian cavaliers who had fallen in battle, 
and all extolled the valor of those who had recently 
perished in the defense of the convent. Pelistes re- 
mained silent for a time, and checked the grief which 
swelled within his bosom as he thought of his devoted 
cavaliers. At length, lifting up his voice, '^Happy are 
the dead,^^ said he, ''for they rest in peace, and are gone 
to receive the reward of their piety and valor! I could 
mourn over the loss of my companions in arms, but they 
have fallen with honor, and are spared the wretchedness 
I feel in witnessing the thraldom of my country. I have 
seen my only son, the pride and hope of my age, cut 
down at my side; I have beheld kindred, friends, and 
followers falling one by one, around me, and have be- 
come so seasoned to those losses that I have ceased to 
weep. Yet there is one man over whose loss I will never 
cease to grieve. He was the loved companion of my 
youth and the steadfast associate of my graver years. 
He was one of the most loyal of Christian knights. As 
a friend he was loving and sincere; as a warrior his 
achievements were above all praise. What has become 
of him, alas! I know not. If fallen in battle, and I 
knew where his bones were laid, whether bleaching on 
the plains of Xeres or buried in the waters of the 
Guadalete, I would seek them out and enshrine them 
as the relics of a sainted patriot. Or if, like many of hia 
companions in arms, he should be driven to wander in 
foreign lands, I would join him in his hapless exile, and 
we would mourn together over the desolatioi; of out 
country.^' 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 315 

Even fche hearts of the Arab warriors were touched by 
the lament of the good Pelistes, and they said: ^^Who 
was this peerless friend in whose praise thou art so 
fervent?'' 

''His name," replied Pelistes, *'was Count Julian.'^ 

The Moslem warriors stared with surprise, ''Noble 
cavalier/' exclaimed they, ''has grief disordered thy 
senses? Behold thy friend living and standing before 
thee, and yet thou dost not know him! This, this is 
Count Julian!" 

Upon this, Pelistes turned his eyes upon the count 
and regarded him for a time with a lofty and stern de- 
meanor; and the countenance of Julian darkened, and 
was troubled, and his eye sank beneath the regard of 
that loyal and honorable cavalier. And Pelistes said, "In 
the name of God, I charge thee, man unknown! to 
answer. Dost thou presume to call thyself Count 
Julian?" 

The count reddened with anger at these words. 
"Pelistes," said he, "what means this mockery? thou 
knowest me well; thou knowest me for Count Julian." 

"I know thee for a base impostor!" cried Pelistes. 
"Count Julian was a noble Gothic knight; but thou 
appearest in mongrel Moorish garb. Count Julian was 
a'Christian, faithful and devout: but I behold in thee a 
renegade and an infidel. Count Julian was ever loyal to 
his king, and foremost in his country's cause; were he 
living he would be the first to put shield on neck and 
lance in rest, to clear the land of her invaders; but thou 
art a hoary traitor! thy hands are stained with the royal 
blood of the Goths, and thou hast betrayed thy country 
and thy God! Therefore, I again repeat, man unknown! 
if thou sayest thou art Count Julian, thou liest! My 
friend, alas! is dead; and thou art some fiend from hell, 
which has taken possession of his body to dishonor his 
memory and render him an abhorrence among men!" 
So saying, Pelistes turned his back upon the traitor, and 
went forth from the banquet, leaving Count Julian over- 
whelmed with confusion, and an object o| scorn to all 
the Moslem cavaliers. 



316 TBjH ALEAMBRA, 

CHAPTER VL 

HOW TARIC EL TUERTO CAPTURED THE CITY OF TOLEDO 
THROUGH THE AID OF THE JEWS, AND HOW HE 
FOUND THE FAMOUS TALISMANIC TABLE OF SOLO- 
MON. 

While these events were passing in Cordova, the one- 
eyed Arab general, Taric el Tuerto, having subdued the 
city and vega of Granada, and the Mountains of the Sun 
and Air, directed his march into the interior of the king- 
dom, to attack the ancient city of Toledo, the capital of 
the Gothic kings. So great was the terror caused by the 
rapid conquests of the invaders that at the very rumor 
of their approach many of the inhabitants, though thus 
in the very citadel of the kingdom, abandoned it and 
fled to the mountains with their families. Enough re- 
mained, however, to have made a formidable defense; 
and, as the city was seated on a lofty rock, surrounded 
by massive walls and towers, and almost girdled by the 
Tagus, it threatened a long resistance. The Arab w.ar- 
riors pitched their tents in the vega, on the borders of 
the river, and prepared for a tedious siege. 

One evening, as Taric was seated in his tent meditat- 
ing on the mode in which he should assail this rock- 
built city, certain of the patrols of the camp brought a 
stranger before him. ''As we were going our rounds," 
said they, "we beheld this man lowered down with cords 
from a tower, and he delivered himself into our hands, 
praying to be conducted to thy presence, that he might 
reveal to thee certain things important for thee to know.'' 

Taric fixed his eyes upon the stranger: he was a Jewish 
rabbi, with a long beard which spread upon his gabar- 
dine, and descended even to his girdle. "What hast 
thou to reveal?" said he to the Israelite. "What I have 
to reveal," replied the other, "i^ for thee alone to hear: 
command then, I entreat thee, that these men with- 
draw." When they were alone he addressed Taric in 
Arabic: "Know, leader of the host of Islam," said he, 
"that I am sent to thee on the part of the children of 
Israel resident in Toledo. We have been oppressed and 
insulted by the Christians in the time of their prosperity, 
•nd now that they are threatened with siege they hav« 



f I i 

LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 317 

t^ken from us all our provisions and our money; they 
have compelled us to work like slaves, repairing their 
walls; and they oblige us to bear arms and guard a pari 
of the towers. We abhor their yoke, and are ready, if 
thou wilt receive us as subjects and permit us the free 
enjoyment of our religion and our property, to deliver 
the towers we guard into thy hands, and to give thee 
safe entrance into the city.'^ 

The Arab chief was overjoyed at this proposition, and 
he rendered much honor to the rabbi, and gave orders to 
clothe him in a costly robe, and to perfume his beard 
with essences of a pleasant odor, so that he was the most 
sweet smelling of his tribe; and he said, *'Make thy 
words good and put me in possession of the city, and I 
will do all and more than thou hast required, and will be- 
stow countless wealth upon thee and thy brethren.'^ 

Then a plan was devised between them by which the 
city was to be betrayed and given up. ^^But how shall 
I be secured, ^^ said he, ^Hhat all thy tribe will fulfill what 
thou hast engaged, and that this is not a stratagem to 
get me and my people into your power?^' 

^^This shall be thy assurance,^' replied the rabbi: ^^Ten 
of the principal Israelites will come to this tent and re-^ 
main as hostages.^^ 

^^It is enough,^' said Taric; and he made oath to ac- 
complish all that he had promised; and the Jewish 
hostages came and delivered themselves into his hands. 

On a dark night a chosen band of Moslem warriors 
approached the part of the walls guarded by the Jews, 
and were secretly admitted into a postern gate and con- 
cealed within a tower. Three thousand Arabs were at 
the same time placed in ambush among rocks and 
thickets, in a place on the opposite side of the river, 
commanding a view of the city. On the following morn- 
ing Taric ravaged the gardens of the valley, and set fire 
to the farmhouses, and then, breaking up his camp, 
marched off as if abandoning the siege. 

The people of Toledo gazed with astonishment from 
their walls at the retiring squadrons of the enemy, and 
scarcely could credit their unexpected deliverance; be- 
fore night there was not a turban nor a hostile lance to 
be seen in thevega. Theyattribr.ted it all to the special 
intervention ot their patron saint, Leocadia; and the 



318 ' THE ALHAMBTIA. 

following day being palm Sunday, they sallied forth IL 
procession, man, woman, and child, to the church ol 
that blessed saint, which is situated without the walls, 
that they might return thanks for her marvelous protec- 
tion. 

When all Toledo had thus poured itself forth, and was 
marching with cross and relic and solemn chant toward 
the chapel, the Arabs, who had been concealed in the 
tower, rushed forth and barred the gates of the city. 
While some guarded the gates, others dispersed them- 
selves about the streets, slaying all who made resistance; 
and others kindled a fire and made a column of smoke on 
the top of the citadel. At sight of this signal the 
Arabs in ambush beyond the river rose with a great 
shout, and attacked the multitude who were thronging 
t9 the church of St. Leocadia. There was a great mas- 
sacre, although the people were without arms, and made 
no resistance; and it is said in ancient chronicles that 
it was the apostate Bishop Oppas who guided the Mos- 
lems to their prey, and incited them to this slaughter. 
The pious reader, says Fray Antonio Agapida, will be 
slow to believe such turpitude; but there is nothing 
more venomous than the rancor of an apostate priest; for 
the best things in this world, when corrupted, become 
the worst and most baneful. 

Many of the Christians had taken refuge within the 
church and had barred the doors, but Oppas commanded 
that fire should be set to the portals, threatening to put 
every one within to the sword. Happily the veteran Taric 
arrived just in time to stay the fury of this reverend 
renegado. He ordered the trumpets to call off the troops 
from the carnage, and extended grace to all the surviv- 
ing inhabitants. They were permitted to remain in 
quiet possession of their homes and effects, paying only 
a moderate tribute; and they were allowed to exercise 
the rites of their religion in the existing churches, to the 
number of seven, but were prohibited from erecting any 
others. Those who preferred to leave the city were 
suffered to depart in safety, but not to take with them 
any of their wealth. 

Immense spoil was found by Taric In the alcazar oi 
royal castle, situated on a rocky eminence, in the highest 
part of th^ city, Among the regalia treas^^ed up in a 



tmEND OF THE fiUBJUGATION OF SPAIN, 319 

secret chamber were twenty-five regal crowns of fine gold 
garnished with Jacinths, amethysts, diamonds, and other 
precious stones. These were the crowns of the different 
Gothic kings who had reigned in Spain; it having been 
the usage, on the death of each king, to deposit his 
crown in this treasury, inscribing on it his name and 



When Taric was thus in possession of the city, the Jews 
came to him in procession, with songs and dances and the 
sound of timbrel and psaltery, hailing him as their lord, 
and reminding him of his promises. 

The son of Ishmael kept his word with the children of 
Israel; they were protected in the possession of all their 
wealth and the exercise of their religion, and were, more- 
over, rewarded with jewels of gold and jewels of silver, 
and much moneys, f 

A subsequent expedition was led by Taric against 
truadalaxara, which surrendered without resistance; he 
moreover captured the city of Medina Ceii, where he 
found an inestimable table which had formed a part of 
the spoil taken at Rome by Alaric, at the time that 
the sacred city was conquered by the Goths. It was 
composed of one single and entire emerald, and possessed 
talismanic powers; for traditions affirm that it was the 
work of genii, and had been wrought by them for King 
Solomon the Wise, the son of David. This marvelous 
relic was carefully preserved by Taric, as the most pre- 
cious of all his spoils, being intended by him as a present 
to the caliph; and in commemoration of it the city was 
called by the Arabs Medina Almeyda; that is to say, 

**The City of the Table. ^^t 
Having made these and other conquests of less im- 

* Conde, Hist, de las Arabes en Espaiia, c. 12. 

f The stratagem of the Jews of Toledo is recorded briefly by 
Bishop Lucas de Tuy, in his chronicle, but is related at large in the 
chronicle of the Moor Rasis. 

X According to Arabian legends, this table was a mirror revealing 
all great events; insomuch that by looking on it the possessor might 
behold battles and sieges and feats of chivalry, and all actions worthy 
of renown; and might thus ascertain the truth of all historic trans- 
actions. It was a mirror of history, therefore; and had very prob- 
ably aided King Solomon in acquiring that prodigious knowledge 
•*va wisdom for which he was renowned. 



330 THE ALEAMBBA. 

portance, and having collected great quantities of gold 
and silver, and rich stuffs and precious stones, Tario re- 
turned with his booty to the royal cijby of Toledo. 



CHAPTER VIL 

MUZA BEK KOSIER; HIS EKTRANCE INTO SPAIN AND 
CAPTURE OF CARMONA. 

Let us leave for a season the bold Taric in his trium- 
phant progress from city to city, while we turn our eyes 
to Muza ben Nosier, the renowned Emir of Almagreb, 
and the commander-in-chief of the Moslem forces of the 
AVest. When that jealous chieftain had dispatched his 
letter commanding Taric to pause and await his coming, 
he immediately made every preparation to enter Spain 
with a powerful reenforcement, and to take command of 
the conquering army. He left his eldest son, Abdalasis, 
in Caervan, with authority over Almagreb, or Western 
Africa. This Abdalasis was in the flower of his youth, 
and beloved by the soldiery for the magnanimity and the 
engaging affability which graced his courage. 

Muza ben Nosier crossed the strait of Hercules with a 
chosen force of ten thousand horse and eight thousand 
foot, Arabs and Africans. He was accompanied by his 
two sons, Meruan and Abdelola, and by numerous illus- 
trious Arabian cavaliers of the tribe of the Eoreish. He 
landed his shining legions on the coast of Andalusia, and 
pitched his tents near to the Guadiana. There first he 
received intelligence of the disobedience of Taric to his 
orders, and that, without waiting his arrival, the im- 
petuous chieftain had continued his career, and with his 
light Arab squadrons had overrun and subdued the 
noblest provinces and cities of the kingdom. 

The jealous spirit of Muza was still more exasperated 
by these tidings; he looked upon Taric no longer as a 
friend and coadjutor, but as an invidious rival, the de- 
cided enemy of his glory; and he determined on his ruin. 
His first consideration, however, was to secure to himself 
a share in the actual conquest of the land before it should 
be entirely subjugated. 

Taking guides, therefore, from among his Christian 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 321 

captives, he set out to subdue such parts of the countr 
as had not been visited by Taric. The first place whic' 
he assailed was the ancient city of Carmona; it was not 
of great magnitude, but was fortified with high walls and 
massive towers, and many of the fugitives of the late 
army had thrown themselves into it. 

The Goths had by this time recovered from their first 
panic; they had become accustomed to the sight of 
Moslem troops, and their native courage had been roused 
by danger. Shortly after the Arabs had encamped be- 
fore their walls, a band of cavaliers made a sudden sally 
one morning before the break of day, fell upon the 
enemy by surprise, killed above three hundred of them 
in their tents, and effected their retreat into the city; 
leaving twenty of their number dead, covered with hon- 
orable wounds, and in the very center of the camp. 

On the following day they made another sally, and fell 
on a different quarter of the encampment; but the Arabs 
were on their guard, and met them with superior num- 
bers. After fighting fiercely for a time they were 
routed, and fled full speed for the city, with the Arabs 
hard upon their traces. The guards within feared to 
open the gate, lest with their friends they should admit 
a torrent of enemies. Seeing themselves thus shut out, 
the fugitives determined to die like brave soldiers rathe\ 
than surrender. Wheeling suddenly round, they opened 
a path through the host of their pursuers, fought their 
way back to the camp, and raged about it with desperate 
fury until they were all slain, after having killed above 
eight hundred of the enemy.* 

Muza now ordered that the place should be taken by 
storm. The Moslems assailed it on all sides, but were 
vigorously resisted; many were slain by showers of stones, 
arrows, and boiling pitch, and many who had mounted 
with scaling ladders were thrown headlong from the bat- 
tlements. The alcayde, Galo, aided solely by two men, 
defended a tower and a portion of the wall, killing and 
wounding with a crossboAV more than eighty of the 
enemy. The attack lasted above half a day, when the 
Moslems were repulsed with the loss of fifteen hundred 
men. 

* Abulcasim, Perdida de Espana, L. 1, c. 13. 



322 THE ALHAMBRA. 

Mttza was astonished and exasperated at meeting with 
such a formidable resistance from so small a city; for it 
was one of the few places, during that memorable con- 
quest, where the Gothic valor shone forth with its proper 
luster. While the Moslem army lay encamped before 
the place it was joined by Magued the renegado, and 
Count Julian the traitor, with one thousand horsemen; 
most of them recreant Christians, base betrayers of their 
country, and more savage in their warfare than the 
Arabs of the desert. To find favor in the eyes of Muza, 
and to evince his devotion to the cause, the count under- 
took, by wily stratagem, to put this gallant city in his 
power. 

One evening, just at twilight, a number of Christians, 
habited as traveling merchants, arrived at one of the 
gates, conducting a train of mules laden with arms and 
warlike munitions. ''Open the gate quickly,^' cried 
they; *'we bring supplies for the garrison, but the Arabs 
have discovered, and are in pursuit of us.'^ The gate 
was thrown open, the merchants entered with their 
beasts of burden, and were joyfully received. Meat and 
drink were placed before them, and after they had re- 
freshed themselves they retired to the quarters allotted 
to them. 

These pretended merchants were Count Julian and a 
number of his partisans. At the hour of midnight they 
stole forth silently, and assembling together, proceeded 
to what was called the Gate of Cordova. Here, setting 
suddenly upon the unsuspecting guards, they put them 
to the edge of the sword, and throwing open the gates, 
admitted a great body of the Arabs. The inhabitants 
were roused from their sleep by sound of drum and trum- 
pet and the clattering of horses. The Arabs scoured the 
streets; a horrible massacre was commenced, in which 
none were spared but such of the females as were young 
and beautiful, and fitted to grace the harems of the con- 
querors. The arrival of Muza put an end to the pillage 
and the slaughter, and he granted favorable terms to the 
survivors. Thus the valiant little city of Carmona, after 
nobly resisting the open assaults of the infidels, fell a 
victim to the treachery of apostate Christians/^ 

*Cron. getL de Espatia, por 41onzo ej Sabio, P. 3, c 1, 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 323 
OHAPTEK VIII. 

MUSA MARCHES AGAINST THE CITY OF SEVILLE. 

After the capture of Carmona Muza descended into 
a noble plain, covered with fields of grain, with orchards 
and gardens, through which glided the soft-flowing 
Guadalquivir. On the borders of the river stood th6 
ancient city of Seville, surrounded by Eoman walls, and 
defended by its golden tower. Understanding from his 
gpies that the city had lost the flower of its youth in the 
battle of the Guadalete, Muza anticipated but a faint re- 
sistance. A considerable force, however, still remained 
within the place, and what they wanted in numbers they 
made up in resolution. For some days they withstood 
the assaults of the enemy, and defended their walls with 
great courage. Their want of warlike munitions, how- 
ever, and the superior force and skill of the besieging 
army, left them no hope of being able to hold out long. 
There were two youthful cavaliers of uncommon valor in 
the city. They assembled the warriors and addressed 
them. *^We cannot save the city,'' said they; *'but at 
least we may save ourselves, and preserve so many strong 
arms for the service of our country. Let us cut our way 
through the infidel force and gain some secure fortress, 
from whence we may return with augmented numbers 
for the rescue of the city."*' 

The advice of the young cavaliers was adopted. In 
the dead of the night the garrison assembled to the num- 
ber of about three thousand, the most part mounted on 
horseback. Suddenly sallying from one of the gates, 
they rushed in a compact body upon the camp of the 
Saracens, which was negligently guarded, for the Mos- 
lems expected no such act of desperation. The camp 
was a scene of great carnage and confusion; many were 
slain on both sides; the two valiant leaders of the Chris- 
tians fell covered with wounds, but the main body suc- 
ceeded in forcing their way through the center of the 
army, and in making their retreat to Beja in Lusitania. 

Muza was at a loss to know the meaning of this desper- 
ate sally. In the morning he perceived the gates of the 
city wide open. A number of ancient and venerable 
men presented themselves at his tent^ ofl:ering submis- 



324 THE ALHAMBRA. 

sion and imploring mercy, for none were left in the place 
but the old, the infirm, and the miserable. Muza lis- 
tened to them with compassion and granted their prayer, 
and the only tribute he exacted was three measures of 
wheat and three of barley from each house or family. 
He placed a garrison of Arabs in the city, and left there a 
number of Jews to form a body of population. Having 
thus secured two important places in Andalusia, he passed 
the boundaries of the province, and advanced with great 
martial pomp into Lusitania. 



CHAPTEK IX. 

MUSA BESIEGES THE CITY OF MERIDA. 

The army of Muza was now augmented to about 
eighteen thousand horsemen, but he took with him but 
few foot-soldiers, leaving them to garrison the conquered 
towns. He met with no resistance on his entrance into 
Lusitania. City after city laid its keys at his feet, and 
implored to be received into peaceful vassalage. One 
city alone prepared for vigorous defense, the ancient 
Merida, a place of great extent, uncounted riches, and 
prodigious strength. A noble Goth named Sacarus was 
the governor; a man of consummate wisdom, patriotism, 
and valor. Hearing of the approach of the invaders, he 
gathered within the walls all the people of the surround- 
ing country, with their horses and mules, their flocks 
and herds and most precious effects. To insure for a 
long time a supply of bread, he filled the magazines with 
grain, and erected windmills on the churches. This 
done, he laid waste the surrounding country to a great ex~ 
tent, so that a besieging army would have to encamp in 
a desert. 

When Muza came in sight of this magnificent city he 
was struck with admiration. He remained for some time 
gazing in silence upon its mighty walls and lordly towers, 
its vast extent, and the stately palaces and temples with 
which it was adorned. '^Surely,'' cried he, at length, 
'*all the people of the earth have combined their power 
and skill to embellish and aggrandize this city. Allah 



LEGEND OF THE BtlBJUQATJON OF SPAIN. 325 

Achbar! Happy will he be who shall have th& glory of 
making such a conquest!'' 

Seeing that a place so populous and so strongly fortified 
would be likely to maintain a long and formidable resist- 
ance, he sent messengers to Africa to his son Abdalasis, 
to collect all the forces that could be spared from the 
garrisons of Mauritania, and to hasten and reenforce 

him. ^ . . 

While Muza was forming his encampment, deserters 
from the city brought him word that a chosen band in- 
tended to sally forth at midnight and surprise his camp. 
The Arab commander immediately took measures to re- 
ceive them with a counter surprise. Having formed his 
plan, and communicated it to his principal officers, he 
ordered that throughout the day there should be kept 
up an appearance of negligent confusion in his encamp- 
ment. The outposts were feebly guarded; fires were 
lighted in various places, as if preparing for feasting; 
bursts of music and shouts of revelry resounded from 
different quarters, and the whole camp seemed to be 
rioting in careless security on the plunder of the land. 
As the night advanced the fires were gradually extin- 
guished, and silence ensued, as if the soldiery had sunk 
into deep sleep after the carousal. 

In the meantime, bodies of troops had been secretly 
and silently marched to reenforce the outposts; and the 
renegado Magued, with a numerous force, had formed 
an ambuscade in a deep stone quarry by which the Chris- 
tians would have to pass. These preparations being 
made, they awaited the approach of the enemy in breath- 
less silence. 

About midnight, the chosen force intended for the 
sally assembled, and the command was confided to Count 
Tendero, a Gothic cavalier of tried prowess. After hav- 
ing heard a solemn mass and received the benediction of 
the priest, they marched out of the gate with all possi- 
ble silence. They were suffered to pass the ambuscade 
in the quarry without molestation; as they approached 
the Moslem camp everything appeared quiet, for the foot 
soldiers were concealed in slopes and^ hollows, and every 
Arab horseman lay in his armor beside his steed. ^ The 
sentinels on the outposts waited until the Christians 
were close at hand, and then fled in apparent consterna- 

tiOUe 



326 



TBS ALUAMBRA. 



thii 



Count Tendero gave the signal for assault, and 
Christians rushed confidently forward. In an instant an 
uproar of drums, trumpets, and shrill war ones burst 
forth from every side. An army seemed to spring up 
from the earth; squadrons of horse came thundering 
on them in front, while the quarry poured forth legions 
of ai med warriors in their rear. 

The noise of the terrific conflict that took place was 
heard on the city walls and answered by shouts of exulta- 
tion, for the Christians thought it rose from the terror 
and confusion of the Arab camp. In a little while, how^ 
ever, they were undeceived by fugitives from the fight, 
aghast with terror, and covered with wounds. ''HeP 
itself,'' cried they, **is on the side of these infidels; the 
earth casts forth warriors and steeds to aid them. We 
have fought, not with men, but devils!'' 

The greater part of the chosen troops who had sallied 
were cut to pieces in that scene of massacre, for they had 
been confounded by the tempest of battle which suddenly 
broke forth around them. Count Tendero fought with 
desperate valor, and fell covered with wounds. His 
body was found the next morning, lying among the slain, 
and transpierced with half a score of lances. The rene- 
gade Magued cut off his head and tied it to the tail of 
his horse, and repaired with this savage trophy to the 
tent of Muza; but the hostility of the Arab general was 
of a less malignant kind. He ordered that the head and 
body should be placed together upon a bier and treated 
with becoming reverence. 

In the course of the day a train of priests and friars 
came forth from the city to request permission to seek 
for the body of the count. Muza delivered it to them, 
with many soldier-like encomiums on the valor of that 
good cavalier. The priests covered it with a pall of cloth 
of gold, and bore it back in melancholy procession to the 
city, w^here it was received with loud lamentations. 

The siege was now pressed with great vigor, and re- 

f)eated assaults were made, but in vain. Muza saw, at 
ength, that the walls were too high to be scaled, and 
the gates too strong to be burst open without the aid of 
engines, and he desisted from the attack until machines 
for the purpose could be constructed. The governor 
euspected, from this cessation of active warfare, that th© 



LEGEND QF TEE 8TTBJUGATI0N OF SPAIN. 32? 

enemy flattered themselves to reduce the place by famine; 
he caused, therefore, large baskets of bread to be thrown 
from the wall, and sent a messenger to Muza to inform 
him that if his army should be in want of bread, he 
would supply it, having suflBcient corn in his granaries 
for a ten years' siege.'' * 

The citizens, however, did not possess the undaunted 
spirit of their governor. When they found that the 
Moslems were constructing tremendous engines for the 
destruction of their walls, they lost all courage, aiid, 
surrounding the governor in a clamorous multitude, 
compelled him to send forth persons to capitulate. 

The ambassadors came into the presence of Muza with 
awe, for they expected to find a fierce and formidable 
warrior in one who had filled the land with terror; but 
to their astonishment, they beheld an ancient and vener- 
able man, with white hair, a snowy beard, and a pale, 
emaciated countenance. He had passed the previous 
night without sleep, and had been all day in the field: 
be was exhausted, therefore, by watchfulness and fatigue, 
and his garments were covered with dust. 

''What a devil of a man is this," murmured the am- 
bassadors, one to another, 'Ho undertake such a siege 
when on the verge of the grave. Let us defend our city 
the best way we can; surely we can hold out longer than 
the life of this graybeard." 

They returned to the city, therefore, scoflBng at an in- 
vader who seemed fitter to lean on a crutch than wield a 
lance; and the terms offered by Muza, which would 
otherwise have been thought favorable, were scornfully 
rejected by the inhabitants. A few days put an end to 
this mistaken confidence. Abdalasis, the son of Muza, 
arrived from Africa at the head of his reenforcement; he 
brought seven thousand horsemen and a host of Barbary 
archers, and made a glorious display as he marched into 
the camp. The arrival of this youthful warrior was 
hailed with great acclamations, so much had he won the 
hearts of the soldiery by the frankness, the suavity, and 
generosity of his conduct. Immediately after his arrival 
a grand assault was made upon the city, and several of 
the huge battering engines being finished, they were 
wheeled up and began to thunder against the walls. 

* Bleda, Crpnica^ L. S, c 11, 



328 THE ALHAMBRA. ] 

The unsteady populace were again seized with terror, |! 
and, surrounding their governor with fresh clamors, 
obliged him to send forth ambassaors a second time to 
treat of a surrender. When admitted to the presence of 
Muza, the ambassadors could scarcely believe their eyes, 
or that this was the same withered, white-headed old man 
of whom they had lately spoken with scoffing. His hair 
and beard were tinged of a ruddy brown; his counte- 
nance was refreshed by repose and flushed with indigna- 
tion, and he appeared a man in the matured vigor of 
his days. The ambassadors were struck with awe. 
^'Surely,'' whispered they, one to the other, "this must 
be either a devil or a magician, who can thus make him- 
self old and young at pleasure.'* 

Muza received them haughtily. ^^Hence,'' said he, 
**and tell your people I grant them the same terms I 
have already proffered, provided the city be instantly 
surrendered; but, by the head of Mohammed, if there be 
any further delay, not one mother's son of ye shall re* 
ceive mercy at my hands T' 

The deputies returned into the city pale and dismayed. 
"Go forth! go forth!'* cried they, "and accept whatever 
terms are offered; of what avail is it to fight against 
men who can renew their youth at pleasure? Behold, 
we left the leader of the infidels an old and feeble man, 
and to-day we find him youthful and vigorous." * 

The place was, therefore, surrendered forthwith, and 
Muza entered it in triumph. His terms were merciful. 
Those who chose to remain were protected in persons, 
possessions, and religion; he took the property of those 
only who abandoned the city or had fallen in battle, to- 
gether with all arms and horses, and the treasures and 
ornaments of the churches. Among these sacred spoils 
was found a cnp made of a single pearl, which a king of 
Spain, in ancient times, had brought from the temple of 
Jerusalem when it was destroyed by Nabuchodonosor. 
This precious relic was sent by Muza to the caliph, and 
was placed in the principal mosque of the city of — , 
Damascus.! " fli 

*Conde, p. 1, c. 13. Ambrosio de Morales. K B.— In the 
chronicle of Spain, composed by order of Alonzo the Wise, thi« 
anecdote is given as having happened at the siege of SeviUe. 

t Marmol. Descrip. de Africa, T. 1, Lc S. 



LEGEND OF THE 8UBJUQATI0N OF SPAIN. 329 

Muza knew how to esteem merit even in an enemy. 
When Sacarus, the governor of Merida, appeared before 
him, he lauded him greatly for the skill and courage he 
had displayed in the defense of his city; and, taking off 
his own scimitar, which was of great value, girded it 
upon him with his own hands. ''Wear this," said he, 
^'as a poor memorial of my admiration; a soldier of such 
virtue and valor is worthy of far higher honors. ^^ 

He would have engaged the governor in his service, or 
have persuaded him to remain in the city, as an illus- 
trious vassal of the caliph, but the noble-minded Sacarus 
refused to bend to the yoke of the conquerors; nor could 
he bring himself to reside contentedly in his country, 
when subjected to the domination of the infidels. Gath- 
ering together all those who chose to accompany him 
into exile, he embarked to seek some country where he 
might live in peace and in the free exercise of his reli- 
gio;i. What shore these ocean pilgrims landed upon has 
never been revealed; but tradition vaguely gives us to 
believe that it was some unknown island far in the bosom 
of the Atlantic,* 



CHAPTER X, 

EXPEDITIOK OF ABDALASIS AGAINST SEVILLE AND THE 



After the capture of Merida, Muza gave a grand ban- 
quet to his captains and distinguished warriors in that 
magnificent city. At this martial feast were many 
Arab cavaliers who had been present in various battles, 
and they vied with each other in recounting the daring 
enterprises in which they had been engaged, and the 
splendid triumphs they had witnessed. While they 
talked with ardor and exultation, Abdalasis, the son of 
Muza, alone kept silence, and sat with a dejected coun- 
tenance. At length, when there was a pause, he turned 
to his father and addressed him with modest earnestness. 
''My lord and father,'' said he, "I blush to hear your 
warriors recount the toils and dangers they have passed. 



* Abulcasim, Perdida de Espaiia, L. 1, c. 13. 



330 THE AlHAMBHA, 

%vhile I have done nothing to entitle me to their com 
panionship. When I return to Egypt and present my 
self before the caliph he will ask me of my services ii 
Spain; what battle I have gained; what town or castle 
I have taken. How shall 1 answer him? If you lovo 
me, then, as your son, give me a command, intrust to 
me an enterprise, and let me acquire a name worthy to 
be mentioned among men/' 

The eyes of Muza kindled with joy at finding Adbalasiik 
thus ambitious of renown in arms. *' Allah be praised!'* 
exclaimed he, ^Hhe heart of my son is in the right place. 
It is becoming in youth to look upward and be aspiring. 
Thy desire, Abdalasis, shall be gratified.'' 

An opportunity at that very time presented itself to 
prove the prowess and discretion of the youth. During 
the siege of Merida the Christian troops which had 
taken refuge at Beja had reenforced themselves from 
Peflaflor, and suddenly returning, had presented them- 
selves before the gates of the city of Seville.* Certain 
of the Christian inhabitants threw open the gates and 
admitted them. The troops rushed to the alcazar, took 
it by surprise, and put many of the Moslem garrison to 
the sword; the residue made their escape, and fled to 
the Arab camp before Merida, leaving Seville in the 
hands of the Christians. 

The veteran Muza, now that the siege of Merida was 
at an end, was meditating the recapture and punishment 
of Seville at the very time when Abdalasis addressed 
him. '^Behold, my son," exclaimed he, '^an enterprise 
worthy of thy ambition! Take with thee all the troops 
thou hast brought from Africa; reduce the city of Se- 
ville again to subjection, and plant thy standard upon 
its alcazar. But stop not there: carry thy conquering 
sword into the southern parts of Spain; thou wilt find 
there a harvest of glory yet to be reaped." 

Abdalasis lost no time in departing upon this enter- 
prise. He took with him Count Julian, Magued el 
Kumi, and the Bishop Oppas, that he might benefit by 
their knowledge of the country. When he came in sight 
of the fair city of Seville, seated like a queen in the midst 

of its golden plain, with the Guadalquivir flowing be- 

■ — — — ■ ■ pA 

♦Espinosa, Antq. y Grand, de Seville, L. 2, c. 8. 



LBQEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN, 381 

ue^ath its walls, he gazed upon it with the admiration of 
a lover, and lamented in his soul that he had to visit it as 
an avenger. His troops, however, regarded it with 
wrathful eyes, thinking only of its rebellion, and of the 
massacre of their countrymen in the alcazar. 

The principal people in the city had taken no part in 
this gallant but fruitless insurrection; and now, when 
they beheld the army of Abdalasis encamped upon the 
banks of the Guadalquivir, would fain have gone forth to 
make explanations and intercede for mercy. The pop- 
ulace, however, forbade any one to leave the city and, 
barring the gates, prepared to defend themselves to the 
last. 

The place was attacked with resistless fury. The 
gates were soon burst open; the Moslems rushed in, 
panting for revenge. They confined not their slaughter 
to the soldiery in the alcazar, but roamed through every 
street, confounding the innocent with the guilty in one 
bloody massacre, and it was with the utmost difficulty 
that Abdalasis could at length succeed in staying their 
sanguinary career.* 

The son of Muza proved himself as mild in conquest as 
he had been intrepid in assault. The moderation and 
benignity of his conduct soothed the terrors of the van- 
quished, and his wise precautions restored tranquillity. 
Having made proper regulations for the protection oi 
the inhabitants^ he left a strong garrison in the place to 
prevent any future insurrection, and then departed on 
the further prosecution of his enterprise. 

Wherever he went his arms were victorious; and his 
victories were always characterized by the same magna- 
nimity. At length he arrived on the confines of that 
beautiful region comprising lofty and precipitous moun- 
tains and rich and delicious plains, afterward known by 
the name of the kingdom of Murcia. All this part ol 
the country was defended by the veteran Theodomir, 
vho, by skillful management, had saved a remnant of his 
forces after the defeat on the banks of the Guadalete. 

Theodomir was a stanch warrior, but a wary and pru- 
dent man. He had experienced the folly of opposing 
the Arabs in open field, where their cavalry and armor 

*Couae, P. 1. c. li 



332 THE ALHAMBBA, 

gave them such superiority; on their approach, there- 
fore, he assembled all his people capable of bearing arms, 
and took possession of the cliffs and mountain passes. 
''Here/^ said he, ''a simple goatherd, who can hurl 
down rocks and stones, is as good as a warrior armed in 
proof /^ In this way he checked and harassed the Mos- 
lem army in all its movements, showering down missiles 
upon it from overhanging precipices, and waylaying it in 
narrow and rugged defiles, where a few raw troops could 
make stand against a host. 

Theodomir was in a fair way to baffle his foes and 
obliged them to withdraw from his territories; unfortu- 
nately, however, the wary veteran had two sons with 
him, young men of hot and heavy valor, who considered 
all this prudence of their father as savoring of cowardice, 
and who were anxious to try their prowess in the open 
field. '^What glory/' said they, ^^is to be gained by 
destroying an enemy in this way, from the covert of 
rocks and thickets?^' 

^*You talk like young men,'* replied the veteran. 
^^Glory is a prize one may fight for abroad, but safety is 
the object when the enemy is at the door." 

One day, however, the young men succeeded in draw- 
ing down their father into the plain. Abdalasis imme- 
diately seized on the opportunity and threw himself be- 
tween the Goths and their mountain fastnesses. Theodo- 
mir saw too late the danger into which he was betrayed. 
^'What can our raw troops do,'' said he, *'against those 
squadrons of horse that move like castles? Let us make 
a rapid retreat to Orihuela and defend ourselves from be- 
hind its walls." 

^*Father," said the eldest son, *^it is too late to retreat; 
remain here with the reserve while my brother and I 
advance. Fear nothing; am not I your son, and would 
I not die to defend you?" 

''In truth," replied the veteran, ^'I have my doubts 
whether you are my son. But if I remain here, and you 
should all be killed, where then would be my protection? 
Come," added he, turning to the second son, ''I trust 
that thou art virtually my son; let us hasten to retreat 
before it is too late." 

''Father," replied the youngest, "I have not a doubt 
that I am honestly and thoroughly your son, and as such 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN 333 

I honor you; but I owe duty likewise to my mother, anft 
when I sallied to the war she gave me her blessing as 
long as I should act with valor, but her curse should I 
prove craven and fly the field. Fear nothing, father; I 
will defend you while living, and even after you are deado 
you shall never fail of an honorable sepulture among 
your kindred.'^ 

^'A pestilence on ye both/^ cried Theodomir, ^'for a 
brace of misbegotten madmen! What care I, think ye, 
where ye lay my body when I am dead? One day's ex- 
istence in a hovel is worth an age of interment in a mar- 
ble sepulcher. Come, my friends,^' said he, turning to 
his principal cavaliers, ''let us leave these hot-headed 
striplings and make our retreat; if we tarry any longer 
the enemy will be upon us/' 

Upon this the cavaliers and proud hidalgoes drew up 
scornfully and tossed their heads: *'What do you see 
in us,'' said they, ''that you think we will show our backs 
to the enemy? Forward! was ever the good old Gothic 
watchword, and with that we will live and die!" 

While time was lost in these disputes, the Moslem 
army kept advancing, until retreat was no longer prac- 
ticable. The battle was tumultuous and bloody. Theo- 
domir fought like a lion, but it was all in vain; he saw 
his two sons cut down, and the greater part of their rash 
companions, while his raw mountain troops fled in all 
directions. 

Seeing there was no longer any hope, he seized the 
bridle of a favorite page who was near him, and who was 
about spurring for the mountains. "Fart not from me," 
said he, "but do thou at least attend to my counsel, my 
son; and, of a truth, I believe thou art my son; for thou 
art the offspring of one of my handmaids who was kind 
unto me." And indeed the youth marvelously resembled 
him. Turning then the reins of his own steed, and giv- 
ing him the spur, he fled amain from the field, followed 
by the page; nor did he stop until he arrived within the 
walls of Orihuela. 

Ordering the gates to be barred and bolted, he pre- 
pared to receive the enemy. There were but few men in 
the city capable of bearing arms, most of the youth hav- 
ing fallen in the field. He caused the women, therefore, 
to clothe themselves in male attire, to put on hats and 



334 THE ALHAMBBA. 

helmets, to take long reeds in their hands instead x$i 
lances, and to cross their hair upon their chins in sem- 
blance of beards With these troops he lined the walls 
and towers. 

It was about the hour of twilight that Abdalasis ap- 
proached with his army, but he paused when he saw tha 
Avails so numerously garrisoned. Then Theodomir took 
a flag of truce in his hand, and put a herald^s tabard on 
the page, and they two sallied forth to capitulate, and 
were graciously received by Abdalasis. 

^^I come," said Theodomir, *'on the behalf of the com- 
mander of this city to treat for terms worthy of your 
magnanimity and of his dignity. You perceive that the 
city is capable of withstanding a long siege, but he is de- 
sirous of sparing the lives of his soldiers. Promise that 
the inhabitants shall be at liberty to depart unmolested 
with their property, and the city will be delivered up to 
you to-morrow morning without a blow; otherwise wc 
are prepared to fight until not a man be left.'^ 

Abdalasis was well pleased to get so powerful a place 
upon such easy terms, but stipulated that the garrison 
should lay down their arms. To this Theodomir readily 
assented, with the exception, however, of the governor 
and his retinue, which was granted out of consideration 
for his dignity. The articles of capitulation were then 
drawn out, and when Abdalasis had affixed his name and 
seal, Theodomir took the pen and wrote his signature* 
^'Behold in me," said he, ''the governor of the city!" 

Abdalasis was pleased with the hardihood of the com- 
mander of the place in thus venturing personally into his 
power, and entertained the veteran with still greater 
honor. When Theodomir returned to the city he made 
known the capitulation, and charged the inhabitants to 
pack up their effects during the night and be ready to 
sally forth in the morning. 

At the dawn of day the gates were thrown open, and 
Abdalasis looked to see a great force issuing forth, but to 
his surprise, beheld merely Theodomir and his page in 
battered armor, follower", by a multitude of old men, 
women, and children. 

Abdalasis waited until the whole had come forth, then 
turning to Theodomir, *'Where," cried he, "are the 
soldiers whom I saw Ust evening lining the walls and 
towers?" 



LEOEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 335 

^'Soldiers have I none/' replied the veteran. **As to 
my garrison^ behold it before yon. With these women 
did I man my walls, and this my page is my herald, 
guard and retinue.' 

Upon this the Bishop Oppas and Count Julian ex- 
claimed that the capitulation was a base fraud and ought 
not to be complied with; but Abdalasis relished the 
stratagem of the old soldier^ and ordered that the stipu- 
lations of the treaty should be faithfully performed. 
Nay, so high an opinion did he conceive of the subtle 
wisdom of this commander, that he permitted him to 
remain in authority over the surrounding country on his 
acknowledging allegiance and engaging to pay tribute to 
the caliph; and all that part of Spain, comprising the 
beautiful provinces of Murcia and Valencia, was long 
after known by the Arabic name of its defender, and is 
still recorded in Arabian chronicles as ^*The land of 
Tadmir.''* 

Having succeeded in subduing this rich and fruitful 
^egion, and having gained great renown for his generos- 
ity as well as valor, Abdalasis returned with the chief 
part of his army to the city of Seville. 



CHAPTER XL 

JiUZA ARRIVES AT TOLEDO— INTERVIEW BETWEEN HIM 
AND TARIC. 

When Muza ben Nosier had sent his son Abdalasis to 
«ubdue Seville, he departed for Toledo to call Taric to 
account for his disobedience to his orders; for, amid all 
his own successes, the prosperous career of that com- 
mander preyed upon his mind. What can content the 
jealous and ambitious heart? As Muza passed through 
the land, towns and cities submitted to him without 
resistance; he was lost in wonder at the richness of the 
country and noble monuments of art with which it was 
adorned; when he beheld the bridges constructed in 
ancient times by the Eomans, they seemed to him the 

*Conde, p. 1. Cronica del Tkloro Rasis. Cron. gen. Espana, por 
Alonzo «1 Sabio, p. 3» c. 1. 



ot^^g THB ALHAMBRA. 

work, not of men^ but of genii. Yet all these admirable 
objects only made him repine the more that he had not 
had the exclusive glory of invading and subduing the 
land; and exasperating him the more against Taric, for 
having apparently endeavored to monopolize the conquest. 

Taric heard of his approach, and came forth to meet 
him at Talavera, accompanied by many of the most dis- 
tinguished companions of his victories, and with a train 
of horses and mules laden with spoils, with which he 
trusted to propitiate the favor of his commander. Their 
meeting took place on the banks of the rapid river 
Tietar, which rises in the mountains of Placencia and 
throws itself into the Tagus. Muza, in former days, 
while Taric had acted as his subordinate and indefatiga- 
ble officer, had cherished and considered him as a second 
self; but now that he had started up to be a rival, he 
could not conceal his jealousy. When the veteran came 
into his presence he regarded him for a moment with a 
stern and indignant aspect. ^'Why hast thou disobeyed 
my orders?'^ said he. *'I commanded thee to await my 
arrival with reenforcements, but thou hast rashly overrun 
the country, endangering the loss of our armies and the 
ruin of our cause.'^ 

*'I have acted, '^ replied Taric, ^^in such manner as I 
thought would best serve the cause of Islam, and in so 
doing I thought to fulfill the wishes of Muza. Whatever 
I have done has been as your servant; behold your share, 
as commander-in-chief, of the spoils which 1 have col- 
lected.^^ So saying, he produced an immense treasure 
in silver and gold and costly stuffs, and precious stones, 
and spread it before Muza. 

The anger of the Arab commander was still more 
kindled at the sight of this booty, for it proved how 
splendid had been the victories of Taric; but he re- 
strained his wrath for the present, and they proceeded 
together in moody silence to Toledo. When he entered 
this royal city, however, and ascended to the ancient 
palace of the Gothic kings, and reflected that all this 
had been a scene of triumph to his rival, he could no 
longer repress his indignation. He demanded of Taric a 
strict account of all the riches he had gathered in Spain, 
even of the presents he had reserved for the caliph, and, 
above all, he made him yield up his favorite trophy, the 



LEGEND OF TBE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 337 

talismanic table of Solomon. When all this was done 
he again upbraided him bitterly with his disobedience of 
orders, and with the rashness of his conduct. ^'What 
blind confidence in fortune hast thou shown/' said he, 
"in overrunning such a country, and assailing such pow- 
erful cities with thy scanty force! What madness, to 
venture everything upon a desperate chance, when thou 
knewest I was coming with a force to make the victory 
secure. All thy success has been owing to mere luck^ 
not to judgment nor generalship. '^ 

He then bestowed high praises upon the other chief- 
tains for their services in the cause of Islam, but they 
answered not a word and their countenances were gloomy 
and discontented; for they felt the injustice done to their 
favorite leader. As to Taric, though his eye burned like 
fire, he kept his passion within bounds. *'I have done 
the best I could to serve God and the caliph, '^ said he 
emphatically; "my conscience acquits me, and I trust 
my sovereign will do the same." 

"Perhaps he may," replied Muza bitterly; "but, in 
the meantime, I cannot confide his interests to a des- 
perado who is heedless of orders and throws everything 
at hazard. Such a general is unworthy to be intrusted 
with the fate of armies." 

So saying, he divested Taric of his command, and 
gave it to Magued the renegado. The gaunt Taric still 
maintained an air of stern composure. His only words 
were, "The caliph will do me justice!" Muza was so 
transported with passion at this laconic defiance that he 
ordered him to be thrown into prison, and even threat- 
ened his life. 

Upon this, Magued el Eumi, though he had risen by 
the disgrace of Taric, had the generosity to speak out 
warmly in his favor. "Consider," said he to Muza, 
"what may be the consequences of this severity. Taric 
has many friends in the army; his actions, too, have 
been signal and illustrious, and entitle him to the high- 
est honors and rewards, instead of disgrace and imprison- 
ment." 

The anger of Muza, however, was not to be appeased; 
and he trusted to justify his measures by dispatching 
missives to the caliph, complaining of the insubordinu' 
tion of Taric, and his rash and headlong con<Juft. Th(^ 



338 THE ALHAMBRA. 

result proved the wisdom of the caution given by Magued. 
In the course of a little while Muza received a humili- 
ating letter from the caliph, ordering him to restore 
Taric to the command of the soldiers, *^whom he had so 
gloriously conducted;^^ and not to render useless *'one of 
the best swords in Islam !^^ * 

It is thus the envious man brings humiliation and 
reproach upon himself, in endeavoring to degrade a 
meritorious rival. When the tidings came of the justice 
rendered by the caliph to the merits of the veteran, there 
was general joy throughout the army, and Muza read in 
the smiling countenances of every one around him a 
severe censure upon his conduct. He concealed, how- 
ever, his deep humiliation, and ailected to obey the 
orders of his sovereign with great alacrity; he released 
Taric from prison, feasted him at his own table, and 
then publicly replaced him at the head of his troops. 
The army received its favorite veteran with shouts of 
joy, and celebrated with rejoicings the reconciliation of 
the commanders; but the shouts of the soldiery were 
abhorrent to the ears of Muza. 



CHAPTER XII. 

MUZA PROSECUTES THE SCHEME OF CONQUEST — SIEGE OF 
SARAGOSSA — COMPLETE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 

The dissensions which for a time had distracted the 
conquering army being appeased, and fche Arabian gen- 
erals being apparently once more reconciled, Muza, as 
commander-in-chief, proceeded to complete the enter- 
prise by subjugating the northern parts of Spain. The 
same expeditious mode of conquest that had been 
sagaciously adopted by Taric was still pursued. The 
troops were lightly armed and freed from every super- 
fluous incumbrance. Each horseman, beside his arms, 
carried a small sack of provisions, a copper vessel in 
which to cook them, and a skin which served him for 
surcoat and for bed. The infantry carried nothing but 
their arms. To each regiment or squadron was allowed a 

* Conde. Part 1, c. 15. 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 339 

limited number of sumpter mules and attendants, barely 
enough to carry their necessary baggage and supplies; 
nothing was permitted that could needlessly diminish the 
number of fighting men, delay their rapid movements, 
or consume their provisions. Strict orders were again 
issued, prohibiting, on pain of death, all plunder except- 
ing the camp of an enemy, or cities given up to pillage.* 

The armies now took their several lines of march. 
That under Taric departed toward the northeast; beat- 
ing up the country toward the source of the Tagus; 
traversing the chain of the Iberian or Arragonian moun- 
tains, and pouring down into the plains and valley? 
watered by the Ebro. It was wonderful to see, in so 
brief a space of time, such a vast and difficult countrj 
penetrated and subdued, and the invading army, like an 
inundating flood, pouring its streams into the most re- 
mote recesses. 

While Taric was thus sweeping the country to the 
northeast, Muza departed in an opposite direction; yet 
purposing to meet him, and join their forces in the north. 
Bending his course westwardly, he made a circuit behind 
the mountains, and then, advancing into the open coun- 
try, displayed his banners before Salamanca, which sur- 
rendered without resistance. From hence he continued 
on toward Astorga, receiving the terrified submission oi 
the land; then turning up the valley of the Douro, he 
ascended the course of that famous river toward the 
east; crossed the Sierra de Moncayo, and arriving on the 
banks of the Ebro, marched down along its stream, until 
he approached the strong city of Saragossa, the citadel 
of all that part of Spain. In this place had taken refuge 
many of the most valiant of the Gothic warriors — the 
remnants of armies, and fugitives from conquered cities. 
It was one of the last rallying points of the land. When 
Muza arrived Taric had already been for some time be- 
fore the place, laying close siege; the inhabitants were 
pressed by famine, and had suffered great losses in re- 
peated combats, but there was a spirit and obstinacy \v. 
their resistance surpassing anything that had yet been 
witnessed by the invaders. 

Muza now took command of the siege, and ordered a 

♦^onde, p. 1, c. J»5. 



340 THE ALHAMBRA. 

general assault upon the walls. The Moslems planted 
their scaling ladders, and mounted with their accustomed 
intrepidity, but were vigorously resisted; nor could all 
their efforts obtain them a footing upon the battlements. 
While they were thus assailing the walls. Count Julian 
ordered a heap of combustibles to be placed against one 
of the gates and set on fire. The inhabitants attempted 
in vain from the barbican to extinguish the fiamesc 
They burned so fiercely that in a little while the gate fell 
from its hinges. Count Julian galloped into the city, 
mounted upon a powerful charger, himself and his steed 
all covered with mail. He was followed by three hun- 
dred of his partisans, and supported by Magued the rene- 
gado, with a troop of horse. 

The inhabitants disputed every street and public 
square; they made barriers of dead bodies, fighting be- 
hind these ramparts of their slaughtered countrymen. 
Every window and roof was filled with combatants; the 
very women and children joined in the desperate fight, 
throwing down stones and missiles of all kinds, and 
scalding water upon the enemy. 

The battle raged until the hour of vespers, when the 
principal inhabitants held a parley and capitulated for a 
surrender. Muza had been incensed at their obstinate 
resistance, which had cost the lives of so many of his 
soldiers; he knew, also, that in the city were collected 
the riches of many of the towns of Eastern Spain. He 
demanded, therefore, besides the usual terms, a heavy 
sum to be paid down by the citizens, called the contribu- 
tion of blood, as by this they redeemed themselves from 
the edge of the sword. The people were obliged to com- 
ply. They collected all the jewels of their richest fami- 
lies, and all the ornaments of their temples, and laid 
them at the feet of Muza; and placed in his power many 
of their noblest youths as hostages. A strong garrison 
was then appointed, and thus the fierce city of "Saragossa 
was subdued to the yoke of the conqueror. 

The Arab generals pursued their conquests even to the 
foot of the Pyrenees; Taric then descended along the 
course of the Ebro, and continued along the Mediter- 
ranean coast; subduing the famous city of Valencia, with 
its rich and beautiful domains, and carrying the success 
of his arms even to Denia* 



LBQEND OF THE 8UBJUQA TION OF SPAIN. 34 1 

Muza undertook with his host a wider range of con- 
quest. He overcame the cities of Barcelona^ Gerona, 
and others that lay on the skirts of the eastern moun- 
tains; then crossing into the land of the Franks, he cap- 
tured the city of Narbonne, in a temple of which he 
found seyen equestrian images of silver, which he 
brought off as trophies of his victory.* Returning into 
Spain, he scoured its northern regions along Gallicia and 
the Asturias; passed triumphantly through Lusitania, 
and arrived once more in Andalusia, covered with laurels 
and enriched with immense spoils. 

Thus was completed the subjugation of unhappy Spain. 
All its cities, and fortresses, and strongholds were in the 
hands of the Saracens, excepting some of the wild moun- 
tain tracts that bordered the Atlantic, and extended 
toward the north. Here, then, the story of the conquest 
might conclude, but that the indefatigable chronicler. 
Fray Antonio Agapida, goes on to record the fate of 
those persons who were most renowned in the enterprise. 
We shall follow his steps, and avail ourselves of his in- 
formation, laboriously collected from various sources; 
and, truly, the story of each of the actors in this great 
historical drama bears with it its striking moral, and is 
full of admonition and instruction. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

FEUD BETWEEN" THE ARAB GENERALS— THEY ARE SUM- 
MONED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE CALIPH AT DAMAS- 
CUS — RECEPTION OF TARIC. 

The heart of Muza ben Nosier was now lifted up, for 
he considered his glory complete. He held a sway that 
might have gratified the ambition of the proudest sov- 
ereign, for all Western Africa and the newly acquired 
peninsula of Spain were obedient to his rule; and he was 
renowned throughout all the lands of Islam as the great 
conqueror of the West. But sudden humiliation awaited 
him in the very moment of his highest triumph. 

Notwithstanding the outward reconciliation of Muza 

* Condc, p. 1, c. 16. 



342 Tlih ALHAMBUA 

and Taric, a deep and implacable hoRt.ility jontinued to 
exiflt between tliem; and each bad busy y)artisanR who 
clistract(ul the armies by their fends. Letters were irnu^s- 
santly dispatcbed to Damascus by (utli(^r ]);trty, exalting 
tbe merits of their own loader and decrying his rival. 
Taric was represented as rash, arbitrary, and prodigal, 
and as injuring the discipline of tbe army, by sometimes 
treating it with extrenni rigor and at other times giving 
way to licentiousness and confusion. Muza was landed 
as prudent, sagac^ious, dignified, and systennitic in his 
dealings. 1Mi(5 friends of 'I'aric, on tbe otber hand, 
represented him as braver, generous, and high-minded; 
scrupulous in reserving to liissovcu'eign bisrigbtful sbaro 
of the spoils, but distributing then^st bounteously among 
his soldiers, and thus increasing their ala(5rity in the 
service. **Muza, on the (contrary," said tbc^y, *'is grasp- 
ing and insatiable; ho levies intolerable contributions, 
and collects immense treasure, but sweeps it all into his 
own colfers." 

The caliph was at length wearied out by those com- 
plaints, and feared that tbe safety of the cause might be 
endangered by the dissensions of i\w, rival g(;nerals. lie 
sent letters, therefore, ordering them to leave suitable 

})ers()ns in charge of their several commands, and appear, 
orthwith, before him at Damascus. 

Such was the greeting from his sovereign that awaited 
Muza on his return from the conquest of Northern Spain. 
It was a grievous blow to a man of his pride and ambi- 
tion; but be prei)ared instantly to obey. He returned 
to CJordova, (H)lle(;ting by the way all the treasures he 
had deposited in various places. At that city he called 
a meeting of his principal oHieers, and of the leaders of 
the fa(;tion of apostate (christians, and made them all do 
lionnige to his son Abdalasis, as emir or governor of 
Spain. He gave this favorite son much sage advice for 
the regulation of bis conduc^t, and left with liim his 
nephew, Ayub, a man greatly hononul by the Moslems 
for his wisdom and discretion; exhorting Abdalasis to 
consult him on all occasions and consider him as his 
bosom counselor. He made a parting address to his 
adherents, full of cheerful conhdence; assuring them 
that he would soon return, loaded with new favors and 
honors ])y his soviu'eign, and enabled to reward them all 
^or their faithful sorvicuB, 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN 343 

When Miizji «;illi(ul forth from Cordovji, to ropair to 
Damascus, his cavalgada appeared like the sumptuous 
pageant of some Oriental potentate; for lie had numerous 
guards and attendants spUmdidly armed and arrayed, to- 
gether with four hundred hostages, who were youthful 
cavaliers of the noblest families of the Goths, and a great 
number of captives of both sexes, chosen for tlieir 
beauty, and intended as presents for the ealipli. Thon 
there was a vast train of beasts of burden, laden with 
the plunder of Spain; for he took witli him all the 
wealtli he had collected in his conquests, and all the 
share that had been set apart for his sovereign. With 
this display of trophies and spoils, showing the magnifi- 
cence of the land he had conquered, he looked with con- 
fidence to silence the calumnies of his fo(^s. 

As he traversed the valley of the (Juadalquivir he often 
turned and looked back wistfully upon Cordova; and, at 
the distance of a league, when about to lose sight of it, he 
checked his steed upon the summit of a hill, and gazed 
for a long time upon its palaces and towers. *'0 Cor- 
dova!" excdaimed he, ''great and glorious art thou 
among cities, and abundant in all delights. With grief 
and sorrow do 1 part from thee;, for sure J am it will give 
mo length of days to abide within thy pleasant wallsT* 
When he had nttered these words, say the Arabian 
chronicles, he resumed his wayfaring; but his eyes were 
bent upon the ground, and frequent sighs bespoke the 
heaviness of his heart. 

filmbarking at Cadiz he passed over to Africa with all 
his people and elTcMvts, to regulate his government in 
that country. Jle divided the command l)etween his 
sons, Abdelola and Meruan, leaving the former in Tan- 
gier, and the latter in Caervan. Thus having secured, 
as he thought, the power and prosperity of his family, 
by placing all his sons as his licuitenants in the country 
he had conquered, he disparted for Syria, bearing with 
him the sumptuous spoils of the West. 

While Muza was thus disposing of his commands, and 
moving cumbrously under the weight of wc^alth, the 
veteran Taric was more si)e(uly and alert in obeying the 
summons of the caliph. He knew the importance, where 
complaints were to be heard, of being hrst in i)resence 
of tlie judge; b(^si(Ies, h(^ was ever ri^idy to nmrcli ut a 



344 THE ALEAMBRA. 

moment's warning, and had nothing to impede him in 
his movements. The spoils he had made in his conquests 
had either been shared among his soldiers, or yielded up 
to Muza, or squandered away with open-handed profu- 
sion. He appeared in Syria with a small train of war- 
worn followers, and had no other trophies to show than 
his battered armor, and a body seamed with scars. He 
was received, however, with rapture by the multitude, 
who crowded to behold one of those conquerors of the 
West, whose wonderful achievements were the theme of 
every tongue. They were charmed with his gaunt and 
martial air, his hard sunburnt features, and his scathed 
eye. ''All hail,'^ cried they, *Ho the sword of Islam, 
the terror of the unbelievers! Behold the true model 
warrior, who despises gain and seeks for naught but 
glory!'' 

Taric was graciously received by the caliph, who asked 
tidings of his victories. He gave a soldier-like account 
of his actions, frank and full, without any feigned 
modesty, yet without vainglory. ^'Commander of the 
faithful,'' said he, ''I bring thee no silver, nor gold, nor 
precious stones, nor captives, for what spoils I did not 
share with my soldiers I gave up to Muza as my com- 
mander. How I have conducted myself the honorable 
warriors of thy host will tell thee; nay, let our enemies, 
the Christians, be asked if I have ever shown myself 
cowardly, or cruel, or rapacious." 

''What kind of people are these Christians?" de- 
manded the caliph. 

"The Spaniards," replied Taric, "are lions in their 
castles, eagles in their saddles, but mere women when on 
foot. When vanquished they escape like goats to the 
mountains, for they need not see the ground they tread 
on." 

"And tell me of the Moors of Barbary." 

"They are like Arabs in the fierceness and dexterity 
of their attacks, and in their knowledge of the stratagems 
of war; they resemble them, too, in feature, in fortitude, 
and hospitality; but they are the most perfidious people 
upon earth, and never regard promise or plighted faith." 

"And the people of Afranc; what sayest thou of them?" 

"They are infinite in number; rapid in the onset, fierce 
in battle, but confused and headlong in flight." 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUQATION OF SPAIN. 345 

*^And how fared it with thee among these people? 
Did they sometimes vanquish thee?'^ 

'^Never, by Allah !^' cried Taric, with honest warmth; 
^'never did a banner of mine fly the field. Though the 
enemy were two to one, my Moslems never shunned the 
combat!'^ 

The caliph was well pleased with the martial bluntness 
of the veteran, and showed him great honor; and wher- 
ever Taric appeared he was the idol of the populace. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MUZA ARRIVES AT DAMASCUS— HIS INTERVIEW WITH 
THE CALIPH — THE TABLE OF SOLOMOK — A RIGOROUS 
SENTENCE. 

Shortly after the arrival of Taric el Tuerto at Damas- 
cus, the caliph fell dangerouly ill, insomuch that his life 
was despaired of. During his illness tidings were brought 
that Muza ben Nosier had entered Syria with a vast 
cavalcade, bearing all the riches and trophies gained in 
the Western conquests. Now Suleiman ben Abdelmelec, 
brother to the caliph, was successor to the throne, and 
he saw that his brother had not long to live, and wished 
to grace the commencement of his reign by this trium- 
phant display of the spoils of Christendom; he sent mes- 
sengers, therefore, to Muza, saying, ^'The caliph is ill 
and cannot receive thee at present; I pray thee tarry on 
the road until his recovery.'* Muza, however, paid no 
attention to the messages of Suleiman, but rather has- 
tened his march to arrive before the death of the caliph. 
And Suleiman treasured up his conduct in his heart. 

Muza entered the city in a kind of triumph, with a 
long train of horses and mules and camels laden with 
treasure, and with the four hundred sons of Gothic 
nobles as hostages, each decorated with a diadem and a 
girdle of gold; and with one hundred Christian damsels, 
whose beauty dazzled all beholders. As he passed 
through the streets he ordered purses of gold to be 
thrown among the populace, who rent the air with accla- 
mations. *^Behold," cried they, *Hhe veritable con- 
(jueror of the unbelievers! Behold the true model of a 



g^g THE ALHAMBRA, 

conqueror, Tfho brings home wealth to his country!" 
\nd thev heaped benedictions on the head of Muza. 
" The Caliph Waled Almanzor rose from his couch of 
illness to receive the emir, who, when he repaired to the 
palace, filled one of its great courts with treasures of a 
&nds; the halls, too, were thronged with the jouthfuJ 
hostages, magnificently attired, and ^^th Christian dam- 
sels, lovely as the houris of paradise. When the caliph 
demanded an account of the conquest of Spain, he gave 
it with great eloquence; but, in describing the various 
victories: he made no mention of the name of Taric, but 
spoke as if everything had been effected by himself. He 
then presented the sfoils of the Christians as if they had 
been all taken by his own hands; and when he delivered 
to the caliph the miraculous table of Solomon he dwelt 
with animation on the virtues of that inestimable talis- 



man 



Upon this, Taric, who was present, could no longer 
hold his peace. "Commander of the faithful," said he, 
"examine this precious table, if any part be wanting 
The caliph examined the table, which was composed of a 
single emerald, and he found that one foot was supplied 
with a foot of gold. The caliph turned to Muza and 
said, "Where is the other foot of the table?" Muza 
answered, "I know not; one foot was wanting when it 
came into my hands." Upon this Taric drew from be. 
neath his robe a foot of emerald of like workmanship te 
the others, and fitting exactly to the table. Behold, O 
commander of the faithful!" cried he, "a proof of the 
real finder of the table; and so is it with the greater part 
of the spoils exhibited by Muza as trophies of his achieve- 
ments. It was I who gained them, and who captured 
the cities in which they were found. If you want proof, 
demand of these Christian cavaliers here present, most 
of whom I captured; demand of those Moslem warriors 
who aided me in my battles." , , ^ .. i. ^ 4.^ 

Muza was confounded for a moment, but attempted to 
vindicate himself. "I spake," said he, "as the chief of 
vour armies, under whose orders and banners this con- 
quest was achieved. The actions of the soldier are the 
actions of the commander. In a great victory it is not 
supposed that the chief of the army takes all the captives, 
or kills aU the slain, or gathers »U the booty, though all 



LEGEND OF TBE 8UBJU0A TtON OF SPAIN. 34'; 

nre enumerated in the records of his triumph.'* The 
caliph^ however, was wroth/ and heeded not his words. 
*'You have vaunted your own deserts/' said he, ^'and 
have forgotten the deserts of others; nay, you have 
sought to debase another who has loyally served his 
sovereign; the reward of your envy and covetousness be 
upon your own head!'' So saying, he bestowed a great 
part of the spoils upon Taric and the other chiefs, but 
gave nothing to Muza, and the veteran retired amid 
the sneers and murmurs of those present. 

In a few days the Caliph Waled died, and was suc- 
ceeded by his brother Suleiman. The new sovereign 
cherished deep resentment against Muza for having pre- 
sented himself at court contrary to his command, and he 
listened readily to the calumnies of his enemies: for 
Muza had been too illustrious in his deeds not to have 
many enemies. All now took courage when they found 
he was out of favor, and they heaped slanders on his 
head; charging him with embezzling much of the share 
of the booty belonging to the sovereign. The new caliph 
lent a willing ear to the accusation, and commanded him 
to render up all that he had pillaged from Spain. The 
loss of his riches might have been borne with fortitude 
by Muza, but the stigma upon his fame filled his heart 
with bitterness. ^'I have been a faithful servant to the 
throne from my youth upward," said he, '^and now I am 
degraded in my old age. I care not for wealth, I car« 
not for life, but let me not be deprived of that hono^ 
which God has bestowed upon me!" 

The caliph was still more exasperated at his repining, 
and stripped him of his commands; confiscated his 
effects; fined him two hundred thousand pesants of 
gold, and ordered that he should be scourged and ex- 
posed to the noontide sun, and afterward thrown into 
prison.* The populace also reviled and scoflEed at him 
in his misery, and as they beheld him led forth to the 
public gaze, and fainting in the sun, they pointed at 
him with derision and exclaimed: ^'Behold the envious 
man and the impostor; this is he who pretended to have 

conquered the land of the unbelievers!" 

— — — — I 

* Conde, p. 1, c. 17. 



848 ^^^ ALHAMBRA. 

CHAPTER XV. 

COKDUCT OP ABDALASIS AS EMIR OF SPAIN. 

While these events were happening in Syria, the 
youthful Abdalasis, the son of Muza, remained as emir 
or governor of Spain. He was of a genorouc and benig- 
nant disposition, but he was open and confiding, and 
easily led away by the opinions of those he loved. Fortu- 
nately his father had left with him, as a bosom coun- 
selor, the discreet Ayub, the nephew of Muza; aided by 
his advice, he for some time administered the public 
affairs prudently and prosperously. 

Not long after the departure of his father, he received 
a letter from him, written while on his journey to Syria; 
it was to the following purport: 

* ^Beloved son, honor of thy lineage, Allah guard thee 
from all harm and peril! Listen to the words of thy 
father. Avoid all treachery, though it should promise 
great advantage, and trust not in him who counsels it, 
even though he should be a brother. The company of 
traitors put far from thee; for how canst thou be certain 
that he who has proved false to others will prove true to 
thee? Beware, my son, of the seductions of love. It 
is an idle passion which enfeebles the heart and blinds 
the judgment; it renders the mighty weak, and makes 
slaves of princes. If thou shouldst discover any foible 
of a vicious kind springing up in thy nature, pluck it 
forth, whatever pang it cost thee. Every error, while 
new, may easily be weeded out, but if suffered to take 
root, it flourishes and bears seed, and produces fruit an 
hundred-fold. Follow these counsels, son of my affec- 
tions, and thou shalt live secure.''^ 

Abdalasis mediated upon this letter, for some part 
of it seemed to contain a mystery which he could not 
comprehend. He called to him his cousin and coun- 
selor, the discreet Ayub. ** What means my father,^' said 
he, '*in cautioning me against treachery and treason? 
Does he think my nature so base that it could descend 
to such means?'^ 

Ayub read the letter attentively. ^*Thy father,'' said 



LBGEND OF THE SVBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 349 

he,^^would put thee on thy guard against the traitors 
Julian and Oppas, and those of their party who surround 
thee. What love canst thou expect from men who have 
been unnatural to their kindred^ and what loyalty from 
wretches who have betrayed their country ?^^ 

Abdalasis was satisfied with the interpretation, and 
he acted accordingly. He had long loathed all com- 
munion with these men, for there is nothing which the 
open, ingenuous nature so much abhors as duplicity and 
treason. Policy, too, no longer required their agency; 
they had rendered their infamous service, and had no 
longer a country to betray; but they might turn and be- 
tray their employers. Abdalasis, therefore, removed 
them to a distance from his court, and placed them in 
situations where they could do no harm, and he warned 
his commanders from being in any wise influenced by 
their counsels, or aided by their arms. 

He now confided entirely in his Arabian troops, and in 
the Moorish squadrons from Africa, and with their aid 
he completed the conquest of Lusitania to the ultimate^ 
parts of the Algarbe, or west, even to the shores of the 
great Ocean sea.* From hence he sent his generals to 
overrun all those vast and rugged sierras, which rise like 
ramparts along the ocean borders of the peninsula; and 
they carried the standard of Islam in triumph even to 
the mountains of Biscay, collecting all manner of pre- 
cious spoil. 

^^It is not enough, Abdalasis,'^ said Ayub, *'that we 
conquer and rule this country with the sword; if we wish 
our dominion to be secure, we must cultivate the arts of 
peace, and study to secure the confidence and promote 
the welfare of the people we have conquered.'^ Abda- 
lasis relished counsel which accorded so well with his 
own beneficent nature. He endeavored, therefore, to 
allay the ferment and confusion of the conquest; for- 
bade, under rigorous punishment, all wanton spoil or 
oppression, and protected the native inhabitants in the 
enjoyment and cultivation of their lands, and the pur- 
suit of all useful occupations. By the advice of Ayub, 

*Algarbe, or Algarbia, in Arabic signifies the west, as Axrkia is 
the east, Algufia the north, and Aquibla the south. This will 
serve to explain some of the geographical names on the peninsula, 
which are of Arabian origin. 



350 ' THE ALHAMBRA. 

also, he encouraged great numbers of industrious Moor^ 
and Arabs to emigrate from Africa, and gave them 
houses and lands; thus introducing a peaceful Moham- 
medan population into the conquered provinces. 

The good effect of the counsels of Ayub were soon 
apparent. Instead of a sudden but transient influx of 
wealth, made by the ruin of the land, which left the 
country desolate, a regular and permanent revenue 
sprang up, produced by reviving prosperity, and gathered 
without violence. Abdalasis ordered it to be faithfully 
collected, and deposited in coffers by public officers ap- 
pointed in each province for the purpose; and the whole 
was sent by ten deputies to Damascus to be laid at the 
feet of the caliph; not as the spoils of a vanquished 
country, but as the peaceful trophies of a wisely admin- 
istered government. 

The common herd of warlike adventurers, the mere 
men of the sword, who had thronged to Spain for the 
purpose of ravage and rapine, were disappointed at being 
thus checked in their career, and at seeing the reign of 
terror and violence drawing to a close. What manner of 
leader is this, said they, who forbids us to make spoil of 
the enemies of Islam, and to enjoy the land we have 
wrested from the unbelievers? The partisans of Julian, 
also, whispered their calumnies. "Behold/^ said they 
'Svith what kindness he treats the enemies of your faith, • 
all the Christians who have borne arms against you, and 
withstood your entrance into the land, are favored and 
protected; but it is enough for a Christian to have be- 
friended the cause of the Moslems to be singled out by 
Abdalasis for persecution, and to be driven with scorn 
from his presence.'^ 

These insinuations fermented the discontent of the tur- 
bulent and rapacious among the Moslems, but all the 
friends of peace and order and good government ap- 
plauded the moderation of the youthful emir. 



OlIAPTEE XVI. 

LOVES OF ABDALASIS AXD EXILONA. 

Abdalasis had fixed his seat of government at Seville, 
as permitting easy and frequent communications with 



LEGEND OE THE 8UBJUQATI0N OF SPAIN, S5l 

rhe coast of Africa, His palace was of noble architect 
tare, with delightful gardens extending to the banks of 
the Guadalquivir. In a part of this palace resided many 
of the most beautiful Christian females, who were de- 
tained as captives, or rather hostages, to insure the tran- 
quillity of the country. Those who were of noble rank 
were entertained in luxury and magnificence; slaves were 
appointed to attend upon them, and they were arrayed 
in the richest apparel and decorated with the most 
precious jewels. Those of tender age were taught all 
graceful accomplishments; and even where tasks were 
imposed, they were of the most elegant and agreeable 
kind. They embroidered, they sang, they danced, and 
passed their times in pleasing revelry. Many were lulled 
by this easy and voluptuous existence; the scenes of 
horror through which they had passed were gradually 
effaced from their minds, and a desire was often awak- 
ened of rendering themselves pleasing in the eyes of their 
conquerors. 

After his return from his campaign in Lusitania, and 
during the intervals of public duty, Abdalasis solaced 
himself in the repose of this palace, and in the society of 
these Christian captives. He remarked one among them 
who ever sat apart, and neither joined in the labors nor 
sports of her companions. She was lofty in her de- 
meanor, and the others always paid her reverence; yet 
sorrow had given a softness to her charms, and rendered 
her beauty touching to the heart. Abdalasis found her 
one day in the garden with her companions; they had 
adorned their heads with flowers, and were singing the 
songs of their country, but she sat by herself and wept. 
The youthful emir was moved by her tears, and accosted 
her in gentle accents. *'0 fairest of women!" said he, 
''why dost thou weep, and why is thy heart troubled ?'' 
'^AlasI" replied she, ''have I not cause to weep, seeing 
how sad is my condition, and how great the height from 
which I have fallen? In me you behold the wretched 
Exilona, but lately the wife of Roderick, and the queen 
of Spain, now a captive and a slave!'' and, having said 
these words, cast her eyes upon the earth, and her tears 
began to flow afresh. 

The generous feelings of Abdalasis were aroused at the 
sight of beauty ^nd royalty in tears. He gave ordera 



352 THE ALHAMBnA. 

that Exilona should be entertained in a style befitting 
her former rank; he appointed a train of female attend- 
ants to wait upon her, and a guard of honor to protect 
her from all intrusion. All the time that he could spare 
from public concerns was passed in her society; and he 
even neglected his divan, and suffered his counselors to 
attend in vain, while he lingered in the apartments and 
gardens of the palace, listening to the voice of Exilona, 

The discreet Ayub saw the danger into which he was 
falling. *'0 Abdalasis/^ said he, ''remember the words 
of thy father. 'Beware, my son,' said he, 'of the seduc- 
tions of love. It renders the mighty weak, and makes 
slaves of princes!''^ A blush kindled on the cheek of 
Abdalasis, and he was silent for a moment. "Why,'' 
said he, at length, "do you seek to charge me with such 
weakness? It is one thing to be infatuated by the 
charms of a woman, and another to be touched by her 
misfortunes. It is the duty of my station to console a 
princess who has been reduced to the lowest humiliation 
by the triumphs of our arms. In doing so I do but 
listen to the dictates of true magnanimity." 

Ayub was silent, but his brow was clouded, and for 
once Abdalasis parted in discontent from his counselor. 
In proportion as he was dissatisfied with others or with 
himself, he sought the society of Exilona, for there was 
a charm in her conversation that banished every care. 
He daily became more and more enamored, and Exilona 
gradually ceased to weep, and began to listen with secret 
pleasure to the words of her Arab lover. When, how- 
ever, he sought to urge his passion, she recollected the 
light estimation in which her sex was held by the follow- 
ers of Mohammed, and assumed a countenance grave and 
severe. 

"Fortune,'' said she, "has cast me at thy feet; behold, 
I am thy captive and thy spoil. But though my person 
is in thy power, my soul is unsubdued; and know that, 
should I lack force to defend my honor, I have resolu- 
tion to wash out all stain upon it with my blood. I 
trust, however, in thy courtesy as a cavalier to respect 
me in my reverses, remembering what I have been, and 
that, though the crown has been wrested from my brow, 
the royal blood still warms within my veins." * 

*^Faxardo, corona, Gothica, T. 1 D. 493. Joan, Mar. de reb, 
Hisp. L. 6, c. 27. ^ ^ 



LmENB OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN. 353 

The lofty spirit of Exilon?^, and her proud repulse, 
served but to increase the passion of Abdalasis. He be- 
sought her to unite her destiny with his and share his 
state and power, promising that she should have no rival 
nor co-partner in his heart. Whatever scruples the cap- 
tive queen might originally have felt to a union with one 
of the conquerors of her lord, and an enemy of her 
adopted faith, they were easily vanquished, and she be- 
came the bride of Abdalasis. He would fain have per- 
suaded her to return to the faith of her fathers; but 
though of Moorish origin, and brought up in the doc- 
trines of Islam, she was too thorough a convert to Chris- 
tianity to consent, and looked back with disgust upon a 
religion that admitted a plurality of wives. 

When the sage Ayub heard of the resolution of Abda- 
lasis to espouse Exilona he was in despair, *^Alas, my 
cousin!^^ said he, ^'what infatuation possesses thee? 
Hast thou then entirely forgotten the letter of thy father? 
^Beware, my son,^ said he, 'of love; it is an idle passion, 
which enfeebles the heart and blinds the judgment.''' 
But Abdalasis interrupted him with impatience. ''My 
father," said he, ''spake but of the blandishments of 
wanton love; against these I am secured by my virtuous 
passion for Exilona." 

Ayub would fain have impressed upon him the dangers 
he ran of awakening suspicioQ in the caliph and discon- 
tent among the Moslems, by wedding the queen of the 
conquered Roderick, and one who was an enemy to the 
religion of Mohammed; but the youthful lover only lis- 
tened to his passion. Their nuptials were celebrated at 
Seville with great pomp and rejoicings, and he gave his 
bride the name of Omaiisam; that is to say, she of the 
precious jewels:* but she continued to be known among 
the Christians by the name of Exilona. 



CHAPTER XVIL 

FATE OF ABDALASIS AKD BXILOKA — DEATH OF MUZA. 

Possession, instead of cooling the passion of Abda- 
lasis, only added to its force; he became blindly enamored 

■ III 1 I, ■III. .!.. ; ■ . . I ■ II. - ■■ ' • " ■-' . I . I ..... I - . ■ I ■ . J ^ 

* Copde, p. 1, c. 17* 



354 THE ALHAMBEA. 

of his beautiful bride, and consulted her will in all 
things; nay, having lost all relish for the advice of the 
discreet Ayub, he was even guided by the counsels of 
his wife in the affairs of government. Exilona, unfor- 
tunately, had once been a queen, and she could not re- 
member her regal glories without regret. She saw that 
Abdalasis had great power in the land — greater even 
than had been possessed by the Gothic kings; but she 
considered it as wanting in true splendor until his brows 
should be encircled with the outward badge of royalty. 
One day, when they were alone in the palace of Seville, 
and the heart of Abdalasis was given up to tenderness, 
she addressed him in fond yefc timid accents. *'Will not 
my lord be offended,'' said she, ^^if I make an unwel- 
come request?" Abdalasis regarded her with a smile. 
**What canst thou ask of me, Exilona," said he, ^'that 
wit would not be a happiness for me to grant?" Then 
Exilona produced a crown of gold, sparkling with jewels, 
which had belonged to the king, Don Eoderick, and 
said, ^'Behold, thou art king in authority, be so in thy 
outward state. There is majesty and glory in a crown; 
it gives a sanctity to power." Then putting the crown 
upon his head, she held a mirror before him that he 
might behold the majesty of his appearance. Abdalasis 
chid her fondly, and put the crown away from him, but 
Exilona persisted in her prayer. ^^Never," said she, 
*'has there been a king in Spain that did not wear a 
crown." So Abdalasis suffered himself to be beguiled by 
the blandishments of his wife, and to be invested witn 
the crown and scepter and other signs of royalty.* 

It is affirmed by ancient and discreet chroniclers that 
Abdalasis only assumed this royal state in the privacy of 
his palace, and to gratify the eye of his youthful bride; 
but where was a secret ever confined within the walls of 
a palace? The assumption of the insignia of the ancient. 
Gothic kings was soon rumored about, and caused the 
most violent suspicions. The Moslems had already felt 
jealous of the ascendency of this beautiful woman, and 
it was now confidently asserted that Abdalasis, won by 
her persuasions, had secretly turned Christian. 

*Cron, gen. de Alonzo el Sabio, p. 3. Joan. Mar. de reb. Hisp 
lib. 6, c. 27. Conde, p. ;^ ^ li)- 



LEGEND OF THE SUBJUGATION OF SPAIN, 355 

The enemies of Abdalasis, those whose rapacious 
spirits had been kept in check by the beneficence of his 
rule, seized upon this occasion to ruin him. They sent 
letters to Damascus accusing him of apostasy, and of an 
intention to seize upon the throne in right of his wife, 
Exilona, as widow of the late King Roderick. It was 
added that the Christians were prepared to flock to his 
standard as the only means of regaining ascendency in 
their country. 

These accusations arrived at Damascus just after the 
accession of the sanguinary Suleiman to the throne, and 
in the height of his persecution of the unfortunate Muza. 
The caliph waited for no proofs in confirmation; he im- 
mediately sent private orders that Abdalasis should be 
put to death, and that the same fate should be dealt to 
his two brothres who governed in Africa, as a sure means 
of crushing the conspiracy of this ambitious family. 

The mandate for the death of Abdalasis was sent 
to Abhilbar ben Obeidah and Zeyd ben Nabegat, both 
of whom had been cherished friends of Muza, and had 
lived in intimate favor and companionship with his 
son. When they read the fatal parchment, the scroll fell 
from their trembling hands. ''Can such hostility exist 
against the family of Muza?'' exclaimed they. ''Is this 
the reward for such great and glorious services?'' The 
cavaliers remained for some time plunged in horror and 
consternation. The order, however, was absolute, and 
left them no discretion. "Allah is great," said they, 
"and commands us to obey our sovereign." So they 
prepared to execute the bloody mandate with the blind 
fidelity of Moslems. 

It was necessary to proceed with caution. The open 
and magnanimous character of Abdalasis had won the 
hearts of a great part of the soldiery, and his magnifi* 
cence pleased the cavaliers who formed his guard; it was 
feared, therefore, that a sanguinary opposition would be 
made to any attempt upon his person. The rabble, how- 
ever, had been imbittered against him from his having 
restrained their depredations, and because they thought 
him an apostate in his heart, secretly bent upon betray- 
ing them to the Christians. While, therefore, the two 
officers made vigilant dispositions to check any move- 
ment on the part of the soldiery, they let loose the blind 



356 THE ALffAJtBEA, 

fury of the populace by publishing the fatal mandate. 
In a moment the city was in a ferment, and there was a 
ferocious emulation who should be first to execute the 
orders of the caliph. 

Abdalasis was at this time at a palace in the country 
not far from Seville, commanding a delightful view of 
, the fertile plain of the Guadalquivir. Hither he was 
accustomed to retire from the tumult of the court, and 
to pass his time among groves and fountains and the 
sweet repose of gardens, in the society of Exilona. It 
was the dawn of day, the hour of early prayer, when the 
furious populace arrived at this retreat. Abdalasis was 
offering up his orisons in a small mosque which he had 
erected for the use of the neighboring peasantry. 
Exilona was in a chapel in the interior of the palace, 
where her confessor, a holy friar, was performing mass. 
They were both surprised at their devotions, and dragged 
forth by the hands of the rabble. A few guards, who 
attended at the palace, would have made defense, but 
they were everawed by the sight of the written mandate 
of the caliph. 

The captives were borne in triumph to Seville. All 
the beneficent virtues of Abdalasis were forgotten; nor 
had the charms of Exilona any effect in softening the 
hearts of the populace. The brutal eagerness to shed 
blood, which seems inherent in human nature, was 
awakened, and woe to the victims when that eagerness is 
quickened by religious hate. The illustrious couple, 
adorned with all the grace of youth and beauty, were 
hurried to a scaffold in the great square of Seville, and 
there beheaded amid the shouts and execrations of an 
infatuated multitude. Their bodies were left exposed 
upon the ground, and would have been devoured by 
dogs, had they not been gathered at night by some 
Ifriendly hand, and poorly interred in one of the courts of 
their late dwelling. 

Thus terminated the loves and lives of Abdalasis and 
Exilona, in the year of the incarnation seven hundred 
and fourteen. Their names were held sacred as martyrs 
to the Christian faith; but many read in their untimely 
fate a lesson against ambition and vainglorv; having 
sacrificed real power and substantial rule to the glitter- 
ing bauble of a crown. 



J 



LEGEND OF THE 8UBJV0A TION OF SPAJiSl. 357 

The head of Abdalasis was embalmed and inclosed in 
a casket, and sent to Syria to the cruel Suleiman. The 
messenger who bore it overtook the caliph as he was per- 
forming a pilgrimage to Mecca. Muza was among the 
courtiers in his train, having been released from prison. 
On opening the casket and regarding its contents, the 
eyes of the tyrant sparkled with malignant satisfaction. 
Calling the unhappy father to his side: ''Muza,'^ said 
he, ^^dost thou know this head?'^ The veteran recog- 
nized the features of his beloved son, and turned his face 
away with anguish. ^'Yes! well do I know it,'' replied 
he; ^*and may the curse of God light upon him who has 
destroyed a better man than himself!'' 

Without adding another word, he retired to Mount 
Deran, a prey to devouring melancholy. He shortly 
after received tidings of the death of his two sons whom 
he had left in the government of Western Africa, and 
who had fallen victims to the jealous suspicions of the 
caliph. His advanced age was not proof against these 
repeated blows and this utter ruin of his late prosperous 
family, and he sank into his grave sorrowing and broken- 
hearted. 

Such was the lamentable end of the conqueror of 
Spain, whose great achievements were not sufficient to 
atone, in the eye of his sovereign, for a weakness to which 
3,11 men ambitious of renown are subject, and whose 
triumphs eventually brought persecution upon himself, 
and untimely death upon his children. 

Here ends the legend of the Subjugation of Spain. 



358 ^^^ ALHAMBhA. 



LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMILY. 



\^ the preceding legends is darkly shadowed out a 
true story of the woes of Spain. It is a story full of 
wholesome admonition, rebuking the insolence of human 
pride and the vanity of human ambition, and showing 
the futility of all greatness that is not strongly based on 
virtue. We have seen, in brief space of time, most of 
the actors in this historic drama disappearing, one by 
one, from the scene, and going down, conqueror and con- 
quered, to gloomy and unhonored graves. It remains to 
close this eventful history by holding up, as a signal 
warning, the fate of the traitor whose perfidious scheme 
of vengeance brought ruin on his native land. 

Many and various are the accounts given in ancient 
chronicles of the fortunes of Count Julian and his family, 
and many are the traditions on the subject still extant 
among the populace of Spain, and perpetuated in those 
countless ballads sung by peasants and muleteers, which 
spread a singular charm over the whole of this romantic 
land. 

He who has traveled in Spain in the true way in which 
the country ought to be traveled — sojourning in its re- 
mote provinces; rambling among the rugged detiles and 
r^ecluded valleys of its mountains; and making himself 
familiar with the people in their out-of-the-way hamlets, 
and rarely visited neighborhoods — will remember many a 
group of travelers and muleteers, gathered of an evening 
around the door or the spacious hearth of a mountain 
venta, wrapped in their brown cloaks, and listening with 
grave and profound attention to the long historic ballad 
of some rustic troubador, either recited with the true 
ore rotiuido and modulated cadences of Spanish elocu- 
tion, or chanted to the tinkling of a guitar. In this way 



CO UJ^T JULIAN AND HIS FAMIL Y. 359 

:he may have heard the doleful end of Count Julian and 
his family recounted in traditionary rhymes, that have 
been handed down from generation to generation. The 
particulars, however, of the following wild legend are 
chiefly gathered from the writings of the pseudo Moor, 
Easis; how far they may be safely taken as historic facts 
it is impossible now to ascertain; we must content our- 
selves, therefore, with their answering to the exactions 
of poetic justice. 

As yet everything had prospered with Count Julian. 
He had gratified his vengeance; he had been successful 
in his treason, and had acquired countless riches from 
the ruin of his country. But it is not outward success 
that constitutes prosperity. The tree flourishes with 
fruit and foliage while blasted and withering at the 
heart. Wherever he went. Count Julian read hatred in 
every eye. The Christians cursed him as the cause of all 
their woe; the Moslems despised and distrusted him as 
a traitor. Men whispered together as he approached, 
and then turned away in scorn; and mothers snatched 
away their children with horror if he ojffered to caress 
them. He withered under the execration of his fellow- 
men, and last, and worst of all, he began to loathe him- 
self. He tried in vain to persuade himself that he had 
but taken a justifiable vengeance; he felt that no per- 
sonal wrong can justify the crime of treason to one's 
country. 

For a time he sought in luxurious indulgence to 
soothe or forget the miseries of the mind. He assembled 
round him every pleasure and gratification that bound- 
less wealth could purchase, but all in vain. He had no 
relish for the dainties of his board; music had no charm 
wherewith to lull his soul, and remorse drove slumber 
from his pillow. He sent to Ceutafor his wife Frandina, 
his daughter Florinda, and his youthful son Alarbot, 
hoping in the bosom of his family to find that sympathy 
and kindness which he could no longer meet with in the 
world. Their presence, however, brought him no allevia- 
tion. Florinda, the daughter of his heart, for whose sake 
he had undertaken this signal vengeance, was sinking a 
victim to its effects. Wherever she went she found her- 
self a byword of shame and reproach. The outrage she 
had suffered was imputed to her as vvantouness, and her 



360 THE ALEAMBBA. 

calamity was magnified into a crime. The Christians 
never mentioned her name without a curse, and the 
Moslems, the gainers by her misfortune, spoke of her 
only by the appellation of Cava, the vilest epithet they 
could apply to woman. 

But the opprobrium of the world was nothing to the 
upbraiding of her own heart. She charged herself with 
all the miseries of these disastrous wars; the deaths of 
so many gallant cavaliers; the conquest and perdition of 
her country. The anguish of her mind preyed upon the 
beauty of her person. Her eye, once soft and tender in 
its expression, became wild and haggard; her cheek lost 
its bloom, and became hollow and pallid, and at times 
there was desperation in her words. When her father 
sought to embrace her she withdrew with shuddering 
from his arms, for she thought of his treason and the 
ruin it had brought upon Spain. Her wretchedness in- 
creased after her return to her native country, until it 
rose to a degree of frenzy. One day when she was walk- 
ing with her parents in the garden of their palace, she 
entered a tower, and having barred the door ascended to 
the battlements. From thence she called to them in 
piercing accents expressive of her insupportable anguish 
and desperate determination. ''Let this city," said she, 
''be henceforth called Malacca, in memorial of the most 
wretched of women, who therein put an end to her days.'' 
So saying, she threw herself headlong from the tower 
and was dashed to pieces. The city, adds the ancient 
chronicler, received the name thus given it, though 
afterward softened to Malaga, which it still retains in 
memory of the tragical end of Florinda. 

The Countess Frandina abandoned this scene of woe, 
and returned to Ceuta, accompanied by her infant son. 
She took with her the remains of her unfortunate 
daughter, and gave them honorable sepulture in a 
mausoleum of the chapel belonging to the citadel. Count 
Julian departed for Carthagena, where he remained 
plunged in horror at this doleful event. 

About this time the cruel Suleiman, having destroyed 
tlie family of Muza, had sent an Arab general, named 
Alahor, to succeed Abdalasis as emir or governor of 
Spain. The new emir was of a cruel and suspicious 
nature, and commenced his sway with a stern severity 



CO tlST JULIAN AND BIB FAMIL T. 361 

that soon made those under his command look back with 
regret to the easy rule of Abdalasis. He regarded with 
an eye of distrust the renegado Christians who had aided 
in the conquest, and who bore arms in the service of 
the Moslems; but his deepest suspicions fell upon Count' 
Julian. *'Hehas been a traitor to his own countrymen/' 
said he; *'how can we be sure that he will not prove 
traitor to us?'' 

A sudden insurrection of the Christians who had taken 
refuge in the Asturian mountains quickened his suspi- 
cions, and inspired him with fears of some dangerous con- 
spiracy against his power. In the height of his anxiety, 
he bethought him of an Arabian sage named Yuza, who 
had accompanied him from Africa. This son of science 
was withered in form, and looked as if he had outlived 
the usual term of mortal life. In the course of his 
studies and travels in the East, he had collected the 
knowledge and experience of ages; being skilled in as- 
trology, and, it is said, in necromancy, and possessing 
the marvelous gift of prophecy or divination. To this 
expounder of mysteries Alahor applied to learn whether 
any secret treason menaced his safety. 

The astrologer listened with deep attention and over- 
whelming brow, to all the surmises and suspicions of 
the emir, then shut himself up to consult his books 
and commune with those supernatural intelligences sub- 
servient to his wisdom. At an appointed hour the emir 
sought him in his cell. It was filled with the smoke of 
perfumes; squares and circles and various diagrams were 
described upon the floor, and the astrologer was poring 
over a scroll of parchment, covered with cabalistic char- 
acters. He received Alahor with a gloomy and sinister 
aspect, pretending to have discovered fearful portents 
in the heavens, and to have had strange dreams and 
mystic visions. 

'*0 emir," said he, ^'be on your guard! treason is 
around you and in your path; your life is in peril. Be- 
ware of Count Julian and his family." 

''Enough," said the emir. "They shall all die! 
Parents and children — all shall die!" 

He forthwith sent a summons to Count Julian to at- 
tend him in Cordova. The messenger found him 
plunged in affliction for the recent death of his daughter. 



36:3 ^SE ALHAMBRA. 

The count excused himself, on account of this misfor 
fcune, from obeying the commands of the emir in person, 
but sent several of his adherents. His hesitation, and 
the circumstance of his having sent his family across the 
straits to Africa, fere construed by the jealous mind of 
the emir into proofs of guilt. He no longer doubted his 
being concerned in the recent insurrections, and that he 
had sent his family away, preparatory to an attempt, by 
force of arms, to subvert the Moslem domination. In 
his fury he put to death Siseburto and Evan, the nephews 
of Bishop Oppas and sons of the former king, Witiza, 
suspecting them of taking part in the treason. Thus 
did they expiate their treachery to their country in the 
fatal battle of the Guadalete. 

Alahor next hastened to Carthagena to seize upon 
Count Julian. So rapid were his movements that the 
count had barely time to escape with fifteen cavaliers, 
with whom he took refuge in the strong castle of Mar- 
cuello, among the mountains of Arragon. The emir, 
enraged to be disappointed of his prey, embarked at 
Carthagena and crossed the straits to Ceuta, to make 
captives of the Countess Fraudina and her son. 

The old chronicle from which we take this part of our 
legend presents a gloomy picture of the countess in the 
stern fortress to which she had fled for refuge — ^a picture 
heightened by supernatural horrors. These latter the 
sagacious reader will admit or reject according to the 
measure of his faith and judgment; always remembering 
that in dark anc eventful times, like those in question, 
involving the destinies of nations, the downfall of king- 
doms, and the crimes of rulers and mighty men, the 
hand of fate is sometimes strangely visible, and con- 
founds the wisdom of the worldly wise, by intimations 
and portents above the ordinary course of things. With 
this proviso, we make no scruple to follow the venerable 
chronicler in his narration. 

Now, so it happened that the Countess Frandina was 
seated late at night in her chamber in the citadel of 
Ceuta, which stands on a lofty rock, overlooking the sea. 
She was revolving in gloomy thought the late disasters 
of her family, when she heard a mournful noise like that 
of the sea-breeze moaning about the castle walls. Rais- 
ing her Qjes, she beheld her brother, the Bishop Oppas, 



CO UNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMIL T. 363 

at the entrance of the chamber. She advanced to em= 
brace him, but he forbade her with a motion of his hand, 
and she observed that he was ghastly pale, and that his 
eyes glared as with lambent flames. 

''Touch me not, sister/^ said he, with a mournful 
voice, '4est thou be consumed by the fire which rages 
within me. Guard well thy son, for bloodhounds are 
upon his track. His innocence might have secured him 
the protection of Heaven, but our crimes have involved 
him in our common ruin.'^ He ceased to speak and was 
no longer to be seen. His coming and going were alike 
without noise, and the door of the chamber remained fast 
bolted. 

On the following morning a messenger arrived with 
tidings that the Bishop Oppas had been made prisoner 
in battle by the insurgent Christians of the Asturias, and 
had died in fetters in a tower of the mountains. The 
same messenger brought word that the Emir Alahor had 
put to death several of the friends of Count Julian; had 
obliged him to fly for his life to a castle in Arragon, and 
was embarking with a formidable force for Ceuta. 

The Countess Frandina, as has already been shown, 
was of courageous heart, and danger made her desperate. 
There were fifty Moorish soldiers in the garrison; she 
feared that they would prove treacherous, and take part 
with their countrymen. Summoning her oflBcers, there- 
fore, she informed them of their danger, and commanded 
them to put those Moors to death. The guards sallied 
forth to obey her orders. Thirty-five of the Moors were 
in the great square, unsuspicious of any danger, when 
they were severally singled out by their executioners, 
and, at a concerted signal, killed on the spot. The re- 
maining fifteen took refuge in a tower. They saw the 
armada of the emir at a distance, and hoped to be able 
to hold out until its arrival. The soldiers of the count- 
ess saw it also, and made extraordinary efforts to destroy 
these internal enemies before they should be attacked 
from without. They made repeated attempts to storm 
the tower, but were as often repulsed with severe loss. 
They then undermined it, supporting its foundations by 
stanchions of wood. To these they set fire and withdrew 
to a distance, keeping up a constant shower of missiles 
to prevent the Moors from sallying forth to extinguish 



the flames. The stanchions were rapidly consumed, and 
when they gave way the tower fell to the ground. Some 
of the Moors were crushed among the ruins; others were 
flung to a distance and dashed among the rocks; those 
who survived were instantly put to the sword. 

The fleet of the emir arrived at Ceuta about the hour 
of vespers. He landed, bu"- found the gates closed 
against him. The countess herself spoke to him from a 
tower, and set him at defiance. The emir immediately 
laid siege to the city. He consulted the astrologer Yuza, 
who told him that for seven days his star would have the 
ascendant over that of the youth Alarbot, but after that 
time the youth would be safe from his power, and would 
effect his ruin. 

Alahor immediately ordered the city to be assailed on 
every side, and at length carried it by storm. The count- 
ess took refuge with her forces in the citadel, and madt? 
desperate defense; but the walls were sapped and mined, 
and she saw that all resistance would soon be unavailing. 
Her only thoughts now were to conceal her child. 
''Surely,'^ said she, '^they will not think of seeking him 
among the dead.^^ She led him therefore into the dark 
and dismal chapel, ^'Thou art not afraid to be alone 
in this darkness, my child ?^' said she. 

*'No, mother,'' replied the boy; '^darkness gives silence 
and sleep.'' She conducted him to the tomb of Florinda. 
^Tearest thou the dead, my child?" '^No, mother; the 
dead can do no harm, and what should I fear from my 
«ister?" 

The countess opened the sepulcher. ^'Listen, my 
son," said she. ^'There are fierce and cruel people who 
have come hither to murder thee. Stay here in com- 
pany with thy sister, and be quiet, as thou dost value thy 
life!" The boy, who was of a courageous nature, did as 
he was bidden, and remained there all that day, and all 
the niffht, and the next day until the third hour. 

In the meantime the walls of the citadel were sapped, 
the troops of the emir poured in at the breach, and a 
great part of the garrison was put to the sword. The 
countess was taken prisoner and brought before the emir. 
She appeared in his presence with a haughty demeanor, 
as if she had been a queen receiving homage; but when 
he demanded her son she faltered and turned pale, and 
repUedi ''My squ ie with the deac^ 



CO VFT JULIAN AFD HIS FAMIL T. 365 

**Countess/' said the emir, **I am not to be deceived; 
tell me where you have concealed the boy, or tortures 
shall wring from you the secret.'^ 

^'Emir/^ replied the countess, **niay the greatest tor- 
ments be my portion, both here and hereafter, if what I 
speak be not the truth. My darling child lies buried 
ji^'ith the dead/' 

The emir was confounded by the solemnity of her 
words; but the withered astrologer Yuza, who stood by 
his side regarding the countess from beneath his bushed 
eyebrows, perceived trouble in her countenance and 
equivocation in her words. ^'Leave this matter to me,*' 
whispered he to Alahor. *'I will produce the child.** 

He ordered strict search to be made by the soldiery, 
»nd he obliged the countess to be always present. When 
they came to the chapel her cheek turned pale and her 
lip quivered. *'This,*' said the subtile astrologer, ^*is the 
place of concealment!'* 

The search throughout the chapel, however, was 
equally vain, and the soldiers were about to depart, when 
Yuza remarked a slight gleam of joy in the eye of the 
countess. '*We are leaving our prey behind,** thought 
he; 'Hhe countess is exulting.** 

He now called to mind the words of her asseveration, 
that her child was with the dead. Turning suddenly to 
the soldiers he ordered them to search the sepulchers. 
'^If you find him not,'* said he, ^^drag forth the bones of 
that wanton Cava, that they maybe burned and the ashes 
scattered to the winds.'* 

The soldiers searched among the tombs and found that 
cf Florinda partly open. Within lay the boy in the 
sound sleep of childhood, and one of the soldiers took 
him gently in his arms to bear him to the emir. 

When the countess beheld that her child was discov- 
ered, she rushed into the presence of Alahor and, forget- 
ting all her pride, threw herself upon her knees before 
him. 

^'Mercy! mercy!** cried she in piercing accents, ^'mercy 
on my son — my only child! emir! listen to a mother's 
prayer, and my lips Bhall kiss thy feet. As thou art 
merciful to him, so may the most high God have mercy 
upon thee, and heap blessings on thy head." 

•'Bear that frantic womau hence," said the ^mir. **but 
guard her w^U.** 



366 THE ALSAMBRA. 

The countess was dragged away by the soldiery with- 
out regard to her struggles and her cries, and confined 
in a dungeon of the citadel. 

The child was now brought to the emir. He had been 
awakened by the tumult, but gazed fearlessly on the 
stern countenances of the soldiers. Had the heart of 
the emir been capable of pity, it would have been touched 
by the tender youth and innocent beauty of the child; 
but his heart was as the nether millstone, and he was 
bent upon the destruction of the whole family of Julian. 
Calling to him the astrologer, he gave the child into his 
charge with a secret command. The withered son of the 
desert took the boy by the hand and led him up thg 
winding staircase of a tower. When they reached the 
summit Yuza placed him on the battlements. 

**Cling not to me, my child," said he; ^^there is no 
danger." 

^'Father, I fear not," said the undaunted boy; *^yet it 
is a wondrous height!" 

The child looked around with delighted eyes. The 
breeze blew his curling locks from about his face, and 
his cheek glowed at the boundless prospect; for the 
tower was reared upon that lofty promontory on which 
Hercules founded one of his pillars. The surges of the 
sea were heard far below, beating upon the rocks, the 
sea-gulls screamed and wheeled about the foundations of 
the tower, and the sails of lofty caraccas were as merd 
specks on the bosom of the deep, 

"Dost thou know yonder land beyond the blue water ?^' 
said Yuza. 

"It is Spain," replied the boy; "it is the land of my 
father and my mother." 

"Then stretch forth thy hands and bless it, my child,*' 
iaaid the astrologer. 

The boy let go his hold of the wall, and, as he stretched 
forth his hands, the aged son of Ishmael, exerting all the 
strength of his withered limbs, suddenly pushed him 
over the battlements. He fell headlong from the top of 
that tall tower, and not a bone in his tender frame but 
was crushed upon the rocks beneath. 

Alahor came to the foot of the winding stair. 

"Is the boy safe?" cried he. 

"He is safe," replied Yuza; "come and behold th© 
truth with thine own eyoSf" 



GO UNT JULIAN AND HIS FAMIL T 367 

The emir ascended the tower and looked over the bat- 
tlements, and beheld the body of the child, a shapeless 
mass, on the rocks far below, and the sea-gulls hovering 
about; and he gave orders that it should be thrown into 
the sea, which was done. 

On the following morning the countess was led forth 
from her dungeon into the public square. She knew of 
the death of her child, and that her own death was at 
hand, but she neither wept nor supplicated. Her hair 
'was disheveled, her eyes were haggard with watching, 
a>nd her cheek was as the monumental stone, but there 
were the remains of commanding beauty in her counte- 
nance, and the majesty of her presence awed even the 
rabble into respect. 

A multitude of Christian prisoners were then brought 
forth; and Alahor cried out: ^'Behold the wife of Count 
Julian; behold one of that traitorous family which has 
brought ruin upon youi^selves and upon your country.^* 
And he ordered that they should stone her to death. 
But the Christians drew back with horror from the deed, 
and said: *'In the hand of God is vengeance; let not her 
blood be upon our heads.^' Upon this the emir swore 
with horrid imprecations that whoever of the captives 
refused should himself be stoned to death. So the cruel 
order was executed, and the Countess Frandina perished 
by the hands of her countrymen. Having thus accom- 
plished his barbarous errand, the emir embarked for 
Spain, and ordered the citadel of Ceuta to be set on fire, 
and crossed the straits at night by the light of its tower- 
ing flames. 

The death of Count Julian, which took place not long 
after, closed the tragic story of his family. How he died 
remains involved in doubt. Some assert that the cruel 
Alahor pursued him to his retreat among the mountains, 
and, having taken him prisoner, beheaded him; others 
that the Moors confined him in a dungeon, and put an 
end to his life with lingering torments; while others 
affirm that the tower of the castle of Marcuello, near 
Huesca, in Arragon, in which he took refuge, fell on 
him and crushed him to pieces. All agree that his latter 
end was miserable in the extreme, and his death violent. 
The curse of Heaven, which had thus pursued him to the 
grave, was extended to the very place which had given 



a«;g THE ALBAMBRA. 

him shelter; for we are told that the castle is no longer 
inhabited on account of the strange and horrible noises 
that are heard in it, and that visions of armed men are 
seen above it in the air, which are supposed to be the 
troubled spirits of the apostate Christians who favored 
the cause of the traitor. 

In after times a stone sepulcher was shown, outside of 
the chapel of the castle, as the tomb of Count Julian; 
but the traveler and the pilgrim avoided it, or bestowed 
upon it a malediction; and the name of Julian has re- 
mained a byword and a scorn in the land for the warn- 
ing of all generations. Such ever be the lot of him who 
betrays his country. 

Here end the legends of the Conquest of Spaine 

Written in the Alhambra, June 10, 1829. 



KOTE TO THE PRECEDING LEGEND. 

El licenciado Ardevines (Lib. 2, c. 8) dize que dichos 
Duendos caseros, o los del aire, hazen aparacer exercitos 
y peleas como lo que se cuenta por tradicion (y aun 
algunos personas lo deponen como testigos de vista) de 
la torre y castello do Marcuello, lugar al pie de las 
montafias de Aragon (aora inhabitable, por las grandes y 
espantables ruidos, que en else oyen) donde se retraxo el 
Conde Don Julian, causa de la perdicion de Espaiia; 
sobre el qual Castillo, deze se ven en el aire ciertas 
visiones, como de soldados, que el vulgo dize son los 
cavalleros y gente que le favorecian. 

Vide ^^el Ente Dislucidado,'^ por Fray Antonio de 
Fuentalapefia Capuchin. Seccion 3, Subseccion 6, In- 
stancia 8, Num. 644. 

As readers unversed in the Spanish language may wish 
to know the testimony of the worthy and discreet Capu- 
chin friar, Antonio de Fuentalapefta, we subjoin a trans- 
lation of it: 

*^The licentiate Ardevines (Book II., chap. 8) says 
that the said house-fairies (or familiar spirits), or those 
of the air, cause the apparitions of armies and battles; 
such as those which are related in tradition (and some 
persons even depose to the truth of them as eye-wit- 



CO UNT JULIAN A ND HIS FAMIL F. 389 

nesses), of the town and castle of Marcuello, a lortress at 
the foot 01 the mountams of Arragon (at present unrii- 
habitable, on account of the great and frightful noi?3s 
heard in it), the place of retreat of Count Don Julian, 
the cause of the perdition of Spain. It is said that cer- 
tain apparitions of soldiers are seen in the air, which the 
Fulgar say are those of the courtiers and the people who 
^ided him/* 



wsm. 



3l|.77-9 



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Swineburne's Poems. 
Swiss Family Robinson. By Jean 
Rudolph Wyss. 

Taking the Bastile, Alex. Dumas. 

Tale of Two Cities, Chas. Dick- 
ens. 

Tales from Shakespeare. By 

Charles and Mary Lamb. 

Tales of a Traveller. By Wash- 
ington Irving. 

Talisman. Sir Walter Scott. 

Tanglewood Tales. N. Haw- 

thornc. 

Tempest and Sunshine. By Mary 
J. Holmes. 

Ten Nights in a Bar Room. By T. S. 

Arthur. 

Tennyson's Poems. 

Ten Years Later, Alex. Dumas. 

Terrible Temptation. Charles Reade. 

Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Jane 
Porter. 

Thelma. By Marie Corelli. 
Thirtjr Years' War. By Frederick 
Schiller. 



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Three Guardsmen. Alex Dumas, 
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Thrift. By Samuel Smiles. 
Throne of David. J. H. Ingraham, 
Toilers of the Sea. Victor Hugo. 
Tom Brown at Oxford. By Thomas 

Hughes. 
Tom Brown's School Days. By 

Thos. Hughes. 
Tour of the World in Eighty 

Days. By Jules Verne. 
Treasure Island, R. L. Steven- 

son. 
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under 

the Sea. By Jules Verne. 
Twenty Years After. Alex. Dumas. 
Twice Told. Tales. N. Hawthorne. 
Two Admirals. By J, F. Cooper. 
Two years Before the Mast. By 

R. H. Dana, Jr. 
Uarda. By George Ebers. 
Uncle Max. Rosa N. Carey, 
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Beecher Stowe. 
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Utopia. By Sir Thomas Moore. 
Vanity Fair. Wm. M. Thackery. 
Vendetta. By Marie Corelli. 
Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver 

Goldsmith. 
Vicomte de Bragelonnc. By Alex- 
andre Dumas. 
Views A-Foot. Bayard Taylor. 
Villette. By Charlotte Bronte. 
Virginians. Wm. M. Thackeray. 
Walden. By Henry D. Thoreau. 



Wandering Jew, The, Vol. I. By 

Eugene Sije. 
Wandering Jew, The. VoL 11, By 

Eugene Sue. 

Washington and His Generals. By 
J. T. Headley. 

Washington, George. Life of. By 

Jared Sparks. 
Water Babies. Charles Kingsley. 
Water Witch. James F. Cooper. 
Waverly. By Sir Walter Scott. 
Webster, Daniel, Life of. By 

Samuel M. Schmucker. 
Webster's Speeches. (Selected). 
Westward Ho. Charles Kingsley, 
We Two. By Edna Lyall. 
White Company. A Conan Doyle. 
Whites and the Blues. Dumas. 
Whittier's Poems. J. G. Whittier. 
Wide, Wide World. By Susan 

Warner. 
William, the Conqueror, Life of. 

By Edward A. Freeman. 
William, the Silent, Life of. By 

Frederick Harrison. 
Window in Thrums. J. M. Barrle. 
Wing and Wing. J. F. Cooper. 
Wolsey, Cardinal, Life of. By 

Mandell Creighton. 

Woman in White. Wilkie Collins. 
Won by Waiting. Edna LyalL 
Wonder Book. N. Hawthorne. 
Woodstock. By Sir Walter Scott 
Wordsworth's Poems. 
Wormwood. By Marie Corelli. 



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